Amicus and the Slave
by Shelly Lane
Summary: Based on Roman version of Aesop's fable: A slave wonders whether or not he should risk running away. If he stays, his cruel master will continue to mistreat him, but if he is caught as a fugitive, he will be killed. Furthermore, in addition to slave hunters, the surrounding wilderness is also patrolled by the most vicious lion in the empire. (Rated T to be safe, but it's just PG13)
1. Chapter 1

**VOLUMEN I**

_Libertas inaestimabilis res est._

Kurios was nearly impossible to please. When I made his breakfast each morning, he complained that it was either burned or not fully cooked. No matter how many hours I spent cleaning his home, he always claimed it was filthier than the Augean Stables.

My master and his wife were hardly wealthy. They wouldn't have been able to afford a slave, but they had found me abandoned as an infant. Instead of raising me as their son, my masters had seized the opportunity to make someone else do their chores. As the only slave of their household, I had no one to help me with any of the work or errands, and the faster I finished each task, the faster Kurios thought of another. By the end of each day, I was exhausted, but Kurios always scolded me for not having worked hard enough, making sure to remind me that the gods were displeased with laziness. I always wondered if they were also displeased with men who were never satisfied, no matter how much work their slaves did, but I knew better than to ask aloud.

There were some days when Kurios would command me to accompany him to the temple, making sure to let me know what a burden it was to have me follow him.

"If it displeases you, master," I asked one day, "why do you order me to come with you?"

"Don't be a fool!" he retorted. "If you stayed at home, I would have to make the offering myself!"

After carrying a gift, such as incense or a dish of food, from my master's home, I would leave it on the altar just outside the temple and give the priest a little oil, wine, or honey to offer as a libation. Kurios rationalized that if I were the one to present the offering, then it would be my fault rather than his if the gods found fault with the gift. For this reason, it was also my duty to offer the libation at home before every meal.

Having finished with the offering, I would follow him past the towering pillars and into the temple. As was the custom of many citizens of Greece, Kurios mostly practiced his religion at home, visiting the temple only during festivals, holidays, or other occasions. There were always several priests who were willing to advise us, but my master followed the same routine each time. Raising his arms above his head, or turning his palms to the ground when appealing to the gods of the underworld, he would face east to pray, turning to the direction of the sea to address marine gods.

He always began by asking Zeus to continue to bless his life, next praying that Hera would help his wife learn her place so their marriage would be a happier one because to this day, he was unsure why Aphrodite had punished him by causing him to fall in love with that woman. Kurios would then ask Demeter and Dionysus to grant a bountiful harvest to all who worked in fields and vineyards. This was followed by imploring Hermes and Poseidon to be merciful to travelers of land and sea. My master would also pray that Hades would allow him to enjoy a long life before having a peaceful death and being allowed into the Elysian Fields. Having beseeched Asclepius to grant him good health, he would pray for Apollo to enrich his life with both poetry and science, for one was nourishment for the soul as the other was sustenance for the mind. His final prayers were that Ares would prevent our fair city from becoming as warlike as Sparta, and that Athena would fill him with wisdom so he could manage his own household.

"Finally, I beseech you, Hestia, to continue presiding over my home," he would conclude. "Help my worthless slave not to be so lazy, and help him to realize how blessed he is to have such a master."

As he addressed the gods, I would always stand a respectful distance away from him, watching silently until he had finished. However, there was one time when a priest suggested that I might wish to pray for my master.

"It might be good for him!" Kurios agreed, turning to me.

Although I had never before had the opportunity to pray in the temple, I already knew what to say. Turning east, I lifted my hands.

"I have done nothing to deserve such a master," I began. "May the gods be as merciful and kind to him as he has always been to me. May they grant his requests as he has always met my own needs. May they treat him with the same patience and understanding with which he treats his slave, and may he experience as much joy serving the gods as I do serving him."

Judging from the way some of the priests raised or furrowed their brows in disapproval, they had sensed the true meaning of my words, but Kurios hadn't. In fact, he seemed pleased with what I had said.

Although my visits to the temple were few, I was often sent to the agora in order to purchase what my master and his wife needed. No matter how quickly I finished my errands and returned home, Kurios upbraided me for dragging my feet, reminding me what a less patient master would do to a slave who forgot that he had been sent to the agora for a purpose, not for gossiping under the colonnades.

Even though it provided a welcome respite from my masters, I despised the agora. I had been taught from an early age how to bargain skillfully, but I often had to partake of my noon meal there. As if eating in public, a custom reserved only for the lower class and slaves, wasn't humiliating enough, I frequently encountered Aisopos, no matter how I tried to avoid him.

There have been many wise philosophers throughout history, such as Socrates, Plato, and Aristotle. The Stoics and Cynics also had profound opinions about the meaning of life. Although I had no time to contemplate insightful truths, I had nothing against those who chose to do so, as long as they left me in peace so I could finish my errands and return home before Kurios found even more reasons to scold me for delaying.

Aisopos may not have been a philosopher, but he was renowned for his wisdom, which he tried to share with me every time our paths crossed. He never failed to find fault with anything I did.

"_Khaíre!_" he greeted one day, falling into step beside me.

"Good afternoon," I replied. "I was just on my way to the stoa for…"

He clicked his tongue disapprovingly. "Must you be in such a rush? Nothing good was ever done in a hurry."

"With the utmost respect due a man as sage as yourself, it is the fastest man in Olympia who receives the laurel crown."

"Do you believe the Pythia, who answers for Apollo at Delphi, gives her answers quickly, or do you believe she allows herself enough time to respond accurately?"

Hiding a sigh, I attempted to explain, "Sir, it is the duty of every slave to be obedient to his master, and mine has commanded me to make haste. Was it not yourself who compared the industrious ant to the grasshopper who sings all summer?"

Aisopos stroked his chin sagely. "Hestia has blessed you with a kind master. To express your gratitude, you should work harder to become a better slave."

"I do my best, sir," I answered, "but my master is never satisfied."

"For shame!" he scolded. "The other slaves at the agora could show you scars from the way they are treated by their masters! Why must you be so bitter against yours?"

Adjusting the basket that I carried, I quickened my pace without responding. Aisopos merely walked faster to keep up with me.

"Bitterness is as the smallest brier," he lectured. "At first, it is nothing but a slight inconvenience, but if the cause is not removed, it inflames until the trouble affects one's entire life…"

I tried unsuccessfully to ignore him. This was hardly the first time I had heard his oration about how bitterness leads to irrepressible wrath.

"My master is a powerful lion," I responded when he had finished. "A slave is a helpless mouse at the lion's mercy."

"It is the glory of man that is as a wounded lion," Aisopos countered.

As he explained his latest proverb, comparing man's inner strength with the fragility of prominence, making sure to mention that each man must use kindness to overcome his most powerful vices so that such attributes served him, I wanted nothing more than to tell Aisopos that if I saw any lions, I would give them his regards, but until then, I had errands to finish. However, I would not shame my master by making a sharp retort to the wisest man in the city.

Although I often wished to run away, perhaps going to the temple and claiming sanctuary so I would not have to stay with Kurios any longer, I knew the risk if caught trying to escape. Slaves could be beaten or kept in chains for having the audacity to leave their masters.

No matter how bad life is, there's always the possibility that things could be worse. I discovered this the night my master invited his friends over for a symposium.

For those who have never attended a symposium, I would not recommend the experience. The host treats his guests to a splendid banquet, and they have intellectual discussions that gradually become drunken revelry. Usually, only the elite hold such feasts, but Kurios had decided to invite his friends to his home, declaring that he had "as much right as the idle rich to enjoy good company."

No one asked about my rights. No one cared that I had spent hours preparing the feast after I had been with my master at the temple all morning and spent that afternoon buying what my master's wife needed from the agora.

Some slaves were allowed to learn trades and were given advice rather than orders by their masters, who had come to the conclusion that slaves were human beings capable of listening to reason and understanding logic. In fact, there were those who were even allowed to own property or have certain legal rights! I couldn't imagine what it would be like to own anything, even a pair of sandals.

How I loathed sandals! I wouldn't have minded wearing them if they were my own, but I despised having to see them every time I knelt, not only before my master, but his guests as well, to wash every pair of feet presented to me. As dusty as some of them were, I was surprised there was a speck of dirt left anywhere in Greece.

"Your slave washes feet well," one man complimented my master. "My slaves always have the water either scalding or frigid. How did you teach him to lift feet so skillfully that your visitors are hardly inconvenienced?"

It must have been incredibly inconvenient to have someone else kneel before you to remove your sandals and gingerly place your feet in a bowl of warm water, carefully rinsing each foot before patting it dry with the slightest hint of perfumed oil. Surely such a fate was much worse than greeting each visitor in this manner after having prepared an exquisite feast for them, knowing you would be the one to serve the meal and refill their cups each time any of the guests would wave his hand.

There were times I hated the name that my masters had given me. I wouldn't have minded "Aischylos," which came from the word "shame," but "Androkles" was a terrible name for a slave, for it meant "the glory of man."

Was this truly the glory of man, to wash the feet of others? Was it the glory of man, or merely the glory of slaves, to see to it that the needs of everyone else were met while their own were unnoticed?

I dismissed the thought. It hardly mattered what name I had been given. My masters called me "slave" so often that there were times I sincerely believed they had forgotten I even had a name.

At the symposium of a wealthy man, there would be a few female guests to encourage witty conversation. Music and acrobatics were also common forms of entertainment; however, as I have mentioned, Kurios was hardly wealthy. Although his guests debated many topics, I would hardly have considered this gathering to be a true symposium, not that my opinion mattered.

As the guests made themselves comfortable and began their discussions, it was my duty to make sure their plates were full. Kurios was fond of wine, but he was more accustomed to _gleukos_, which wasn't nearly as strong. However, he had insisted that only the finest _oinos_ would be served that evening, and although I secretly despised any drink that caused guests to become unruly or ruin the furniture, it was not my place to advise him, so I held my peace. I had heard wise men claim that drunkards and gluttons would surely come to poverty, and after my master's symposium, I began believing that these men were correct.

Having finished their meal, my master and his visitors began asking each other riddles. Anyone who guessed incorrectly had to drink salt in his wine. This pastime was harmless enough, but I despised the game of _kottabos_, which involved swirling the final dregs of wine in a bowl before hurling them at a target. Whoever missed had his bowl refilled. No one cared whether or not the slave who had to wipe away the spilled wine considered his chore to be a game.

"Do you not tire of the same amusements?" one of the visitors asked Kurios. "Let us gamble!"

This suggestion was met by hearty agreement, and they began gambling away enough coins to have purchased half the items in the agora. After a while, my master announced to his friends that he would have to decline the next round as he had no more money.

"Is there anything else you can bet?" The guest sitting closest to the window thought a moment. "Your slave, perhaps?"

Kurios frowned. "What would you want with him? He is still too young to have a beard!"

"He's a good slave. He's quiet, and he seems to be a hard worker. The Romans would pay a handsome price!"

I barely heard the rest of the conversation. In fact, I was so stunned at being gambled away as easily as a drachma that I never once wondered why this man wanted to sell me in Rome rather than elsewhere in Greece. Perhaps he was a merchant, worked with pirates, or had found himself in debt to a citizen of Rome through some means.

Kurios was too drunk to be disappointed when he lost. When this visitor returned to his home, I accompanied him, for I was now his property.

"Do you think you can learn Latin, slave?!" he demanded.

I lowered my eyes respectfully. "If it pleases my master."

"A wise enough answer!"

We left Greece the following afternoon. Despite my unhappiness as a slave, I felt as if I were losing the closest thing to home I had ever known, and I knew I would miss the agora and the temple and every other place where I had spent a lifetime working against my will. I greatly feared what my new life in Rome would bring, for I had never heard anyone speak in favor of the Romans or their culture.

The Roman slave market was bustling with activity. I stood on a platform with a placard around my neck while people scrutinized me as if I were a chariot they were deciding whether or not to purchase. At least I was spared from having my feet covered with chalk, an identifying mark of those who had only recently become slaves. Some people seemed appalled that we were seen as nothing more than any of the other items sold at the market, but I was accustomed to this status, for no one had ever thought of me as human, only as a slave.

One man seized my arm and lifted it. He then put his finger under my chin and tilted my head, pressing the sides of my jaw firmly to force my mouth to open. I didn't understand his Latin, but I could tell he was worried that I wasn't muscular enough; however, it pleased him that I was young and had no rotten teeth.

That was my introduction to Dominus. I had no way of knowing that his cruelty would make me regret every complaint I ever had against Kurios.

Liberty is a thing beyond all price.


	2. Chapter 2

**VOLUMEN II**

_Aut viam inveniam aut faciam_.

No sooner had he purchased me than Dominus began an arduous journey from the city to his villa. At the time, I was completely unaware where I was being taken. I only knew that I grew weary of walking behind his carriage, where he rode comfortably. My bare feet throbbed so dreadfully that I felt as if everything between my soles and knees burned with a hotter fire than a blacksmith's forge, yet my new master glared when I lagged behind, not caring that my muscles were so sore that I barely had the strength to stand. As I had never worn shoes in my life, my feet had toughened enough that I obtained only a few blisters; thus I was spared at least some agony.

When we arrived at the guesthouse that evening, Dominus gestured that I was to see to it that the horses were taken to the stable. I wished to know why the slaves of the guesthouse weren't given this task, but I said nothing; it was my duty to obey my master without question.

In the darkness of the stable, I fed and groomed the horses as the stablemen watched in disapproval. If I had known enough Latin, I would have explained to them that I wasn't attempting to insult them by doing their chores instead of leaving the tasks to them; I was simply obeying the will of my master.

Even the horses, graceful creatures the color of hazelnuts, seemed unappreciative of my care. One of them trod on my largest toe, which almost immediately began to darken and swell.

Having finished tending the horses, I returned to the guesthouse, trying unsuccessfully to hide my limp. Dominus seemed furious that I was injured; however, he said nothing. Through more gestures, he let me know that I was to serve him the evening meal. As soon as I had done so, he motioned for me to wash his feet.

I wondered if soaking my own feet would relieve any of the stinging, for the effort of standing to cross the room was nearly more than I could bear. It didn't matter. A slave exists merely to ensure his master's needs are met. There would be no water for my feet, nor any other comfort.

Dominus tossed a few scraps outside and pointed to the door. I understood. I was to eat outside as a dog would when eating crumbs that had fallen from its master's table. Brushing aside the dirt, I eagerly ate the only food I had been given that day.

After a while, my master beckoned for me to follow him to the stables, where he chained my wrists and ankles to ensure I wouldn't try to escape, as if I would be able to run away when my feet ached this dreadfully. I was afraid I would never be able to sleep, but I had barely closed my eyes when I felt a sharp kick. Although I didn't understand his Latin, I understood my master's tone of voice; I was to rise at once so we could begin yet another day of travel. It would be nearly a week before we reached the villa, where he spent the summer with his wife and children. For the rest of the year, they remained in the city.

As soon as I stepped through the door of my new master's home, his other slaves looked at me sympathetically. Even those who seemed to have strong muscles were emaciated from lack of proper nourishment.

One of the female slaves, who seemed to be about the same age I was, stepped forward and bowed, humbly greeting our master in Latin. Dominus gestured to me and gave a brief speech that I didn't understand, and the young woman made some manner of polite reply.

"He wants me to teach you Latin," she explained to me in Greek. "For your own good, I would advise you to learn as quickly as possible, and be grateful for the opportunity; many slaves never have the chance to learn the language. I am to show you his land before returning to my duties. Come with me."

"Are you originally from Greece?" I asked as we walked. "You speak our language flawlessly."

"I was Athenian. Now I am Roman, as you must be." She changed the subject. "You will be tending the fields with the other farmhands. They'll show you how to grow crops, and I recommend you learn well. They tend to be short tempered with anyone who interrupts their work to ask questions, unless of course that person is a member of the master's family or his guest."

There were myriads of other chores I would have rather done. I would have given anything for the chance to accompany Kurios to the temple or make purchases in the agora. There was no trade that I wouldn't have been willing to learn. However, I feared that voicing my complaints might have my master sell me to someone who would send me to the nearest mine, which would be even more unpleasant than the difficulties of working in the fields.

"You must never argue with Dominus," the woman continued, "and you must always work as quickly as possible, but you must never make a mistake. When he is feeling merciful, he beats his slaves or keeps them in chains, but he's usually not that lenient."

I shuddered, not daring to ask what other penalties might be enforced.

"Ask for nothing, and be satisfied with very little food. If you eat too much or become needy, you will be seen as an unnecessary expense, and you may end up in the arena." She gestured to some small buildings in the distance. "Those are where farmhands sleep, but since you're a new slave, Dominus will want to make sure you know your place. You'll probably have to sleep in the barn for a few weeks, perhaps longer."

Eager to change the subject, I asked, "_Ónoma soi tí estin?_"

"What difference does it make what my name is?" she replied. "I have no time for friends. Dominus sees to it!"

Undeterred, I introduced myself. "_Ónoma moi Androkles_."

She managed a polite smile. "I am Theokleia. You'll soon find out that it's no use trying to socialize with anyone. Those who work in the fields will be too exhausted, and you'll rarely see any of the slaves who serve in other ways."

"Such as?"

"Some earn money for Dominus by learning a trade. Others, such as myself, assist his wife."

"What is the master's wife like?" I asked.

"Domina is just as strict as her husband. She doesn't hesitate to punish slaves severely either." Theokleia sighed. "I'll introduce you to your overseers so you can get to work immediately."

I followed her to where a group of slaves was working. She made a brief speech in Latin, and one of the overseers nodded, gesturing to let me know how I was to do my job. It was strange for me to see a nod that signified yes. In Greece, nodding had always meant the opposite; an affirmative answer was indicated by shaking the head.

However, I had more important things than head gestures to occupy my mind. The sun beat down mercilessly as I took my place harvesting a vast sea of grain. As I continued working, my muscles ached dreadfully, but I dared not stop to rest. I resented the sound of the whip swishing through the air, causing its victims to cry out in agony. How could Demeter, Ceres, or any other goddesses of agriculture be pleased with the grain harvest when it caused human beings to suffer so much that their screams and groans resembled the sounds of wounded animals?

I nearly trembled as I realized my turn was inevitable. It wouldn't be long until I too felt the searing sting of the lash applied with enough speed and force to tear flesh. The day would come, much sooner than I expected, when my back and arms would be as scarred as those of the other slaves.

If I was fortunate, that would be my only suffering, but how was I to be sure I would never feel the weight of chains even heavier than the shackles and fetters I had worn every night during my journey to this villa? Would my ribs protrude from hunger? Would Dominus decide I wasn't useful enough and have me killed? If my work in his fields and vineyards failed to please him, would I be sold to the mines?

My entire being longed for nothing more than a sip of water. The work was more exhausting than any I had ever done previously, and the day only grew hotter. A few hours after I had given up hope of quenching my intense thirst, Theokleia came to the field with a pitcher of water in each hand.

As she arrived, the other field hands turned their heads, as if she were a hideous Chimaera instead of a human being. Theokleia addressed them in Latin, and each of the other slaves began having only a few gulps of water before passing the pitcher.

"Why does no one look your direction?" I asked in Greek as I waited for my turn.

"They are afraid," she responded. "Domina says I have nearly reached the age when men will see me differently. If I were as any other slave, Dominus wouldn't care, but since I am a favorite of his wife, he has declared that any man who looks at me with tender admiration, as I might look at the loveliest flowers of spring, will receive a whiplash across his face. If a man gazes at me with desire, as a husband does his wife, his eye will be gouged out. For this reason, all male slaves fear to glance my direction, lest their look be mistaken for one of love." Theokleia sighed in dismay. "It hardly matters. When I finally come of age, Dominus will simply choose one of them for me so I can bring forth more slaves."

I frowned. "What about your feelings about the matter?"

"It's simple if you think about it. Cattle produce calves, sheep produce lambs, and any of the other livestock will have more of their kind for the sake of increasing their masters' prosperity. Some mothers kill their children rather than allowing them to live as slaves, but I have an even better solution. Domina says she'd rather see me as a gladiatrix than seeing me reduced to nothing more than a means of obtaining more slaves, but when I come of age, I'll simply kill myself and save everyone else the trouble of deciding my fate for me."

"Surely there must be a better way!" I argued.

"Don't even think about rebelling," she answered, handing me the water pitcher. "If a slave kills a master, all the slaves of that household are killed, and I don't mean quickly and mercifully. You should also know that any slave who runs away is severely punished, usually by branding the forehead or breaking bones or joints; however, death is also a possibility. Dominus favors…" Theokleia clicked her tongue impatiently. "For mercy's sake! Save some water for the other slaves!"

There was no point in mentioning that the swallow of water I had savored was hardly enough to ease the discomfort of my parched throat. Didn't the master think that slaves who had enough water to drink would be able to work harder?

When Theokleia returned to the fields half an hour later, she passed around the pitchers again, but this time, they were filled with weak broth, which whetted rather than appeased my appetite. However, after a lifetime of never having enough to eat, I had become accustomed to this.

It wasn't until after sundown that we were finally allowed to stop our work for the day, and we were each given a stale crust of moldy bread for dinner. One of the overseers gestured to me and pointed to the barn, making it perfectly clear where I was to sleep until further notice. He watched me closely to ensure I went directly to the barn without trying to escape or wander anywhere I had no business going. Although I was curious to know why I was to sleep there rather than the heavily guarded sleeping quarters with the other slaves, I thought it best to hold my peace and do as I was bidden.

The stench of the animals was nearly overpowering, but I was so exhausted that it hardly mattered. I could have slept in the middle of the street if necessary. I had barely gotten settled in the loft when I heard a low growl.

Looking down, I noticed two huge dogs standing at the door. They were determined to make sure I remained in the barn until I rose before dawn for another day of harvesting grain or any other task that Dominus saw fit. Each time I moved, their hackles rose. They had no doubt prevented innumerable escape attempts.

By the slight beam of moonlight that spilled through the window, I noticed that their ribs were clearly visible through their fur, and their necks had small sores from where chains had rubbed too tightly. Dominus had killed any trace of goodness within them in order to give them his same attitude toward his slaves.

I couldn't live this way. I had to find a kinder master.

An even bolder thought came to mind: What if I were my own master, a freedman? I would never again have to worry about whether or not my work was pleasing to anyone but myself, nor would I live in fear of being tortured or killed for the slightest error. That was the moment I promised myself that someday I would be free.

I will either find a way or make one.


	3. Chapter 3

**VOLUMEN III**

_Auribus teneo lupum._

I had only been in Rome for a year when the tragic event occurred. My Latin had improved, although I still had much to learn, and I had long since begun sleeping in the slaves' quarters, which were much more crowded than the barn.

I had been ordered to assist other slaves in making wine. At first, harvesting grapes was a welcome change from grain, but I soon discovered the work was just as arduous. The baskets of grapes were then dumped into a large vat. I was exhausted long before the vat was full, but the overseer insisted that I trample the grapes.

Clutching a pole to keep from slipping, I began crushing grapes under my feet. I despised the texture of flattened grapes, but even worse was the amount of energy it took to complete the task. It was as if taking a long walk uphill, and the overseer was determined not to allow our pace to slacken. Even though another slave also trod grapes, neither of us spoke to the other. We were too breathless from our work.

This was too much of an insult. Whenever Dominus had too much wine, he was even more temperamental than usual. Why did we have to do so much work to make the drink that would cause him to treat us even more cruelly?

When I had finished harvesting grapes and trampling them for wine, I returned to my duties in the grain fields. For the first day, everything was as usual, but the following day began a nightmare beyond any of the horrors I had experienced thus far. I knew something was wrong when one of the slaves favored by Dominus hurried out to the field and informed the overseer that the master had commanded everyone to stop working at once.

"_Dominus dixit hoc frumentum demetentem finire,_" the overseer replied. "He gave the order before he left for the city well over a fortnight ago."

"I'm perfectly aware that our master told you to finish harvesting the grain, but now he has ordered that all of you prepare to leave immediately!" the other slave argued. "He has hired laborers to finish your task, but you are to journey to the city at once! He has sent me to inform you and see to it that you all come! Any slave remaining at this villa when an hour has passed will be put to death!"

"If it's so important," began the overseer, "why didn't he send wagons to…?"

"He has done so! _Festinate!_"

Ignoring his order to hurry, the overseer turned to us, "_Laborate!_ I will soon find out if this man is honest."

Obeying the overseer, we continued working. He walked away with the other slave, who seemed very anxious, and they talked briefly. When the overseer returned, his face was ashen, and he clasped his hands together in an unsuccessful attempt to hide their slight tremble.

"The wagons are near the orchard," he explained in a voice that seemed unnaturally quiet. "Make ready at once."

Hardly anyone spoke at all during the few days it took to journey to the city. Even though I wasn't sure what Dominus wanted, I knew he hadn't summoned us because he wished to grant our liberty.

It was late in the evening when we finally arrived in front of our master's _domus_. Theokleia, who only stayed at the villa when my master and his family were there, showed us where we were to sleep. Dominus gave us nothing to eat since our arrival had taken longer than he had expected. When we rose the next morning, some of the other slaves began preparing breakfast even earlier than usual.

"One of you is missing!" Dominus exclaimed impatiently.

"Master," Theokleia began, "Lucilla regrets that she cannot rise to greet you, but she is still obediently serving you. She brings forth new life, that she may present her master with another slave to do his will."

"She is excused," my master's wife replied.

After a brief pause, Dominus informed Theokleia, "You will serve as midwife!"

"She will not!" his wife retorted. "What does she know about…?"

"She is nearly of age," interrupted my master. "How else will she learn?!"

"At least allow another woman to stay with her," she answered. "Someone who already has experience with helping women who are…"

"It's bad enough that two slaves will be missing the event! I can't spare more!"

"But if something should go wrong with the mother or the child…!"

"What of it?! They're only slaves! It isn't as if they were human! She has assisted with enough calves and lambs to know how livestock is born!"

My master's wife sighed. She knew her husband had the last word in everything. Turning to Theokleia, she warned her sternly about running away.

"As soon as the child is born, you will join us," she concluded.

Theokleia lowered her head respectfully. "_Ego obeodiam, domina_."

Crossing his arms, Dominus ordered, "The rest of you will follow me to the arena at once!"

Immediately, my stomach felt as if I had swallowed a heavy stone. No one was ever brought to the arena for the purpose of being declared a freedman, at least not without having to battle another person first. However, I had the uneasy feeling that we were not being summoned to the arena for the purpose of watching gladiators.

When we arrived, Dominus counted us several times to make sure everyone was present. Although there were separate sections for women and slaves, my master had us all sit with him as close together as possible so he could make an announcement before the day's events started.

"One of my slaves ran away," he began. "Most masters don't require their slaves to do what I now ask of you, but I want you all to see what happens when someone tries to escape me!"

Most of the other slaves, who had no doubt been forced to watch similar occurrences before, trembled slightly. Running away from one's master is a serious crime. A slave is his or her master's property, so running away is the same as stealing what belongs to someone else. Many slaves who are captured after trying to flee are branded, kept in chains, or killed.

Before I had time to contemplate what the punishment for this man might be, the gates of the arena opened, and a trained elephant began writing Latin phrases in the sand. There were a few more acts involving other species of trained animals, but Dominus seemed impatient.

I felt as if my stomach were made of knots of fire. My master wouldn't have gone through all the trouble of hiring laborers to do our chores at the villa so he could bring us to the city in wagons just so we could see animals performing tricks. He was ruthless and vengeful, and he wanted us to see precisely what happened when we attempted to grant ourselves liberty.

The knots in my stomach tightened when the trained animals exited the arena. Before I could wonder what would happen next, animals were released to fight each other. I could hardly believe that no one seemed to care that these creatures were dying for no purpose other than entertainment, but the worst was yet to come.

After several animals had fought each other, the next creature released from the gate was a human being, the slave who had escaped Dominus. The condemned man was forced to walk a lap around the arena with a sign explaining his crime. No one in the crowd seemed to care how harsh this man's life must have been in order to make him risk the cruel penalty if caught, and there was certainly no one who pitied him for what was about to happen. He was merely a fugitive, a slave, a rebellious piece of property of no more value than a chair that had suddenly broken after years of serving its purpose.

Even above the clamor of the crowd, I could hear the sounds of various beasts: the roaring of leopards, the growling of bears, the trumpeting of elephants, and the calls of several other creatures I could not identify. In Greece, I had often overheard Kurios discuss the Roman arena with his friends, declaring that "those savage Romans" had no appreciation for the beauty of nature or exotic creatures, let alone the value of human life. I had always ignored him, for he was the kind of man who found fault with all races of people, even his own countrymen. However, I was beginning to think some of his points may have been valid.

Dominus crossed his arms impatiently, his stern gaze fixed on his former slave. The unfortunate man was trembling so badly that he could barely stand.

None of us dared to speak, but it hardly mattered. What was there to say? We were each grateful that we weren't the one in the arena, but we all knew it could easily be any of us, for Dominus had a temper that was quicker and more destructive than the lash of a whip, especially when he drank too much _vinum_.

Despite the fact that I had already seen many other wild animals fight each other, that was the moment I saw a lion for the first time in my life. With a deafening roar, the creature charged, reaching its hapless victim in less time than it took for me to gasp in terror as I realized what was about to happen. Before the man had time to react, the lion sprang, knocking him to the ground. I wanted nothing more than to avert my eyes from the slashing of the massive paws and the crushing bites of the gaping mouth that exposed such long fangs, but I dared not look away, for Dominus kept glancing at each of us in turn to make sure we were paying attention.

The lion's entire muzzle was red, and his claws slashed at his victim; however, I found out that day that although the common belief is that lions tear their prey to pieces, this idea is false. Lions usually kill their quarry by breaking its neck between their jaws or clamping their teeth over its throat until it suffocates. In some instances when the prey is unable to struggle enough to fight back, lions will eat their victims alive.

Although the sight was ghastly, the sounds were worse. Screams pierced the air as the former slave was battered, suffering from the agony of broken bones and deep wounds as his left arm was torn from his shoulder. I wondered if he still feared death or if he had begun to welcome it.

However, the worst sound of all was neither the roaring of the lion nor the pained cries of the man. The worst sound I had ever heard was the cheering of the spectators that day, thousands of people who had come to see this slave lose his life for the purpose of their entertainment, even though they did not even know his name or pause to consider how they would feel in his place. Having no regard for this man's life, they loudly applauded as the lion ripped him asunder, gulping down its meat as if inhaling rather than chewing its meal.

As the lion began dragging the condemned man by the throat, I noticed that one of my master's female slaves was sobbing uncontrollably. The cries that escaped her lips held as much anguish as those of the lion's victim.

"Silence her!" Dominus ordered.

One of the other women lightly patted the other slave's hand, murmuring kind words to her. I thought I could hear the words "son" and "free now," but I wasn't sure.

Was this his mother? How could my master be heartless enough to force a mother to watch her son die, especially when his murder was so brutal?

"_Desperatum est_," the mother answered the woman attempting to comfort her. "_Nulla spes nobis est_."

No one contradicted her. What hope was there for any of us? This was the fate of all who attempted to go free, and those who never made the attempt condemned themselves to die in bondage.

"He took my punishment once," a young boy whispered to another slave. "I was to be flogged, but this man took the blame for me since I was only a child. He said everything was his fault, and he was scourged."

Dominus couldn't hear what the boy was whispering, but as always, it took only a glare from the master to silence his slave.

Domina, my master's wife, rolled her eyes impatiently. "Are you going to keep them here all day?! You've shown them what happens when a slave runs away! Now how about sending them home so they can return to their chores?!"

"I wish for them to see the gladiators!" Dominus replied. "It will do them good to see what a slave can become if his master sells him to the right people!"

None of the other slaves looked as if they wished to become gladiators. I certainly didn't. This was merely another successful attempt for Dominus to instill fear in us all. (It wasn't until many years later that I learned that only one of every five gladiator fights resulted in death.)

"What about lunch?!" Domina demanded. "I'm not going to go without lunch just so you can prove to these worthless slaves that we're in charge!"

My master turned to me. "_Serve!_"

I deferentially lowered my eyes. "Yes, master?"

"My wife thinks you ought to be doing chores." Dominus crossed his arms. "What do you think, slave? Would you rather be here where you can sit and enjoy the entertainment, or would you rather be at home where you have to work?"

It was a simple trick. If I said I would rather be at the arena, my master would accuse me of laziness and lecture me about how it was the duty of every slave to be obedient and hardworking. If I said I would rather be at home, Dominus would accuse me of complaining, and he would rant about how a slave has no right to disagree with his master, for a difference of opinion is the beginning of rebellion. Either answer was sure to get me beaten. Dominus took great pleasure in posing such questions to his slaves in order to prove his wit.

"_Domine_," I began, keeping my eyes lowered, "it is not for a slave to say where he would rather be. He merely obeys when his master tells him where he should go."

"I expect a full meal, which the other slaves will bring to me at noon." Dominus replied. "When you've finished preparing the food, you may find other housework to keep yourself occupied. If I see so much as a speck of dust in the _domus_ when I return, I'll know you're a lazy slave of no worth to me." He waved his hand. "You're dismissed."

"_Ut iubes_," I answered, leaving at once to do his will.

As he began assigning errands to a few of the other slaves, I made my way to the street, trying unsuccessfully to ignore the sounds of the arena. The unfortunate man's mother had grieved for him, but I had no friends or family. If I were in his place, who would mourn my loss? Would anyone even notice, let alone care, that I had died? Another slave had remembered this man's act of kindness. If I were in the arena, would anyone recall any kind deeds that I had done? Dominus was brutal when administering physical punishment to slaves, but he also had ways to tear the soul like a lion, rending it in pieces.

My thoughts were interrupted when I collided with someone. I immediately began to apologize.

"Never mind your apologies!" the young woman retorted sharply.

I knew that voice. If I had been paying attention, I would have recognized who I had accidentally bumped.

"What brings you out here, Theokleia?" I asked.

"The masters commanded me to join them at the arena after the baby was born," she reminded me.

"How are the mother and child?"

"Both are dead. I disposed of the bodies as the masters have done with others who have died while in their service."

"The masters are at the arena, and the other slaves are doing errands," I began. "You can be honest."

"There's nothing more to say. They're dead." Seeing that I still did not believe her, she crossed her arms. "What do you think I did, stole from the masters and gave the money to the mother so she could try to escape with her child when she was strong enough to do so? You can't honestly believe that I know someone who was willing to hide them both until then!"

I was taken aback. "_Quid fecisti?!_ Do you not realize the penalty for…?!"

"I've seen executions in the arena before."

Unsure of what to say, I finally replied, "I'd hate to see you killed."

"Then I suggest you shut your eyes! Of all the lives, you should be most worried about your own! You seem to forget that no amount of goodness is ever rewarded, and no act of kindness is ever repaid!"

Although she always acted impatient with me, I sensed there was a part of Theokleia that truly wanted a friend. I felt that with time and patience, perhaps we could befriend each other, at least as casual acquaintances. However, I had to admit she was right. There was no way to ensure a life of safety.

I realized how precarious my situation truly was. If I stayed, I would continue to live under the daily torture of being overworked, underfed, and frequently given unmerited punishment. However, if I made any attempt to leave, it would only bring about my death. If I wanted to die peacefully of old age, I could hardly remain a slave, for these harsh conditions would surely lead to poor health, but Dominus was highly unlikely to grant my freedom, nor would he give me an opportunity to earn it, and I dared not attempt to escape. In this precarious situation, I reached a conclusion that the other slaves had no doubt discovered long ago:

I hold a wolf by the ears.


	4. Chapter 4

**VOLUMEN IV**

_Ipsa scientia potestas est_.

I pitied my master's newest slaves. Most of them seemed unaccustomed to working in the fields barefoot. Having spent nearly two years tending crops and vineyards, my feet had toughened so much that I barely noticed my lack of sandals, but these new slaves winced each time they trod upon sharp stones, thorns, or other unpleasant objects.

Hearing the sound of hooves approaching, I worked even harder. The sound always meant Dominus was riding out to the fields, either to inspect our work or to make an announcement, for only my master and his family were allowed to ride horses. An intelligent man learns from his mistakes, but the wise learn from the mistakes of others, and one of the first lessons I had learned from observing the other slaves was how important it was not to be noticed. Holding one's peace while working as if there was no such thing as exhaustion was always the best strategy. I pretended not to hear our master's approach.

"Slave, come here at once!" he ordered.

I paused my work and asked, "Were you addressing me, master?"

"You'll do!" he replied.

I walked over to where my master was waiting on his horse. Seated on the ebony horse beside him was another man.

"I have other duties that are none of your concern," Dominus informed me, "but this man is my guest, and you will show him the farm!"

"Yes, master," I replied.

He rode away, leaving me with his visitor.

"These are the fields where Ceres blesses my master with a bountiful harvest," I began. "Would it please my master's most honored guest to choose which part of the farm he visits next, or would he prefer to…?"

"How long ago did you start learning Latin, slave?" he interrupted.

"Almost two years, but not quite," I replied.

He frowned. "You speak the language well for having known it for such a short time."

Lowering my eyes respectfully, I answered, "I am grateful to have made such progress, for it pleases my master that I learn. Would it please my master's guest to see the vineyards where Bacchus grants favor to my master by sending an abundance of grapes?"

Having shown him the vineyards, I escorted him to the barn and stables, explaining that Fauna, Bubona, and Hippona, had generously increased my master's flocks and herds, keeping them safe from disease or attacks by wild animals.

"Where are you from?" the visitor inquired.

"I am the property of my master, who is a Roman citizen; thus I am Roman."

"A clever answer," he responded. "Now give me an honest one."

"I am Greek."

"Does your master often have you working in the fields?"

"It pleases him that I tend his crops and vineyards."

The visitor sighed. "_Stulus est!_"

Although I agreed wholeheartedly that Dominus was a fool, I knew better than to voice my opinion aloud. I merely led my master's guest to the orchard, taking care not to walk directly in front of him.

"Do you read or write, slave?"

"I still make mistakes when I spell Latin words," I confessed, "and I can only read as well as a young child."

"Did you ever learn to read or write in your own language?"

"My former master insisted."

My master's guest nodded tersely. "I've heard enough. You may return to your regular duties, slave. I must speak with your master at once."

With that, he rode off, leaving me to wonder if any of my answers had displeased him. I nearly shuddered as I considered what Dominus would do to me when he found out I had offended his visitor. Worry plagued my mind as I continued the endless task of making sure my master's crops had all they needed to flourish, a privilege that did not extend to his slaves.

Some philosophers have theorized that slaves are more willing to work and do so more efficiently if their masters treat them with kindness. Others have suggested that keeping slaves is more expensive than hiring workers as needed. Dominus blatantly disagreed with either theory. He didn't even allow us to celebrate Saturnalia.

During this special holiday of feasting, the exchange of gifts, and other forms of merrymaking, slaves are granted a form of temporary freedom. Masters do minor tasks and serve a banquet to their slaves, who are allowed to gamble in the streets, an activity that is illegal the rest of the year.

Dominus, who had been visiting his villa rather than remaining in the city for this holiday, had celebrated by announcing to all his slaves, "The gods are displeased with laziness, yet in honor of Saturn, I will allow each of you to gamble as soon as your chores are finished. Furthermore, I own a great number of slaves, and it is unreasonable to think I can change places with all of you, so to avoid showing partiality to some, I will not be one of the masters who serves his slaves for Saturnalia."

He then gave us even more work than usual to ensure that we would have no time for gambling. I was so exhausted that my aching muscles trembled, and I barely had the strength to stand, yet finishing my work was the only way to avoid receiving more lashes.

"Libertas, is this right?" I had prayed silently. "Our master forces us to work this hard on Saturnalia, this most special of days when slaves honor Saturn by acting as freedman in order to join the celebration of this festival."

It seemed Libertas had no interest in what a slave had to say. Either Rome's gods and goddesses were as biased against slaves as my master was, or the deities weren't nearly as powerful as the Romans believed. For whatever reason, none of them seemed to care whether or not I ever became a freedman, or else they cared but were unable to help me.

Perhaps it goes without saying that Dominus greeted none of us with "_Io, Saturnalia!_" He did, however, inspect every task he had assigned us, and demand, "_Cur opus non adhuc confectum est?!_"

Although I would have loved nothing more than to inform him that the reason our work was not yet finished was because we had been given far too much, and if he was so impatient for our chores to be completed, he could help us, I dared not voice my opinions aloud. Only a few weeks earlier, my master had cut out the tongue of a slave who had dared answer back.

Casting aside memories of Saturnalia, I continued my work. About an hour after the guest had spoken with me, one of my master's favorite slaves approached the fields.

"Dominus has summoned you," he informed me tersely.

As it was highly unusual for Dominus to send for any of his field hands, I could only wonder what he had in mind. I had a feeling it wasn't to show appreciation for all the work I did harvesting his grain and tending his vineyards. Surely I had offended his visitor in some way, and if my master had enjoyed any wine with his guest, he was sure to be even more temperamental than usual.

I mentally rehearsed the proper apology. If Dominus believed I was showing any lack of respect, my punishment would be worse. However, I was unsure what to say. I didn't even know what I had done wrong.

When I saw my master and his guest waiting in front of the villa, my heart sank like a boulder cast into the sea, for Dominus preferred waiting indoors, seated in a comfortable chair, when discussing anything with his slaves. Theokleia stood behind the two of them, waving a fan to cool them and keep away flying insects. She looked as if there were an infinite number of chores she would rather have done, but she held her peace. I remembered that I must not glance her direction, for any look mistaken for one of love would be punished.

"Is this the slave you meant?" my master asked his visitor as I approached.

The guest nodded. Dominus motioned for me to come closer.

"What does my master wish?" I asked humbly.

"As you're aware, slave," he began, "we Romans pride ourselves on our ability to use the best ideas from every culture, and Greece has some of the best art, medicine, and architecture, among other things."

I had already known that Rome admired many things about Greece; Kurios had often discussed it with his friends.

"My guest thinks that as you seem to be an intelligent Greek, you would be more useful to me if you learned a trade, for then you could earn money. Would you like that, slave, or would you prefer to remain a field hand?"

"_Fiat voluntas tua_," I replied. "I wish to serve my master in whatever way he sees fit."

"That will be all." He waved his hand to dismiss me.

As I returned to the fields, I considered what he had said. Although I never understood why he asked our opinions on such matters when we all knew our master never cared what we truly thought, I certainly had no objections to his latest idea. Of course I wished to learn a trade! Surely anything would be better than working in the fields! Moreover, slaves that earned money were considered more useful.

Fools despise wisdom and instruction, but although I would never admit it aloud, I had another reason for wanting to learn as much as I could. I would finally have the skills I needed to earn wages and provide for myself when I became a freedman.

Knowledge itself is power.


	5. Chapter 5

**VOLUMEN V**

_Bene qui latuit bene vixit._

Dominus arranged for me to study with the children during their morning lessons and work in the field after lunch. The_ paedagogus _did not seem at all pleased with this arrangement, but he had no choice in the matter.

I found it easy enough to ignore his complaints and insults. Every hour I spent practicing my literacy in Latin was one less hour I had to work in the fields. Besides, I was delighted to have the chance to learn skills I would need as a freedman.

Spelling was a bit challenging. The Roman letters looked nothing like those I had learned in Greece, and the spelling of names often changed. For example, "Seleukos" was spelled "Seleucus" in Latin. My own name, which I had been taught to write "Ανδροκλης," changed to "Androcles," occasionally spelled "Androclus." I much preferred writing it with _k_ rather than_ c_ so it would be closer to the original Greek spelling, but it hardly mattered. My true name seemed to be _Servus_.

In addition to reading, I also learned the value of coins and how to write numerals. The symbols were very different than those I had used when I lived in Greece, but the Latin system of numbers was easy enough to learn.

As if these subjects weren't enough to keep my mind occupied, I also learned a bit of history and geography. There was much to learn, but I was determined to be free. Many escaped slaves were captured because they lacked knowledge of the language, terrain, or other aspects of Rome. I would not allow myself to be enslaved by my own ignorance.

"Has he become more valuable to me?!" Dominus demanded of the _paedagogus_ one day as I was on my way out of the room.

"He learns well, _domine_," the other slave replied.

"Stop right there!" Dominus ordered me.

I stopped, turning to face my master but keeping my eyes lowered. "Yes, master?"

"Come with me!"

I followed him to a table, where he sat in a comfortable chair as I stood nearby.

"How many quadrans are in a denarius?" he asked.

"Sixty-four, master," I answered.

"How many semis in an aureus?"

"Eight hundred."

He continued to question me, asking me to write certain numbers or Latin phrases. I tried to conceal how uneasy I felt. What if I should forget something important?

"If you had wasted my time," Dominus concluded, "I would've sold you to the mines or the galley. However, I can see that you truly have been learning." He sighed. "It's a real shame a mind like yours was given to a slave. If your intelligence had been given to a citizen, it might have had the chance to make great contributions to Rome."

I remained silent, refusing to let him see my reaction to his words.

"What am I going to do with you?" my master asked rhetorically. "You're too valuable to serve as a field hand. An educated slave can earn money for his master by serving as a tutor, accountant, musician, librarian, doctor, or cook! When I leave this villa, you will accompany me to the city."

I had heard that the custom in Rome is for the master to choose one occupation for his slave, who then learns the trade and perhaps eventually teaches others the same profession. The slave is then treated better than uneducated slaves, for he is able to earn money for his master and is therefore seen as more valuable.

Either Dominus had never heard of this custom or he didn't care in the least. As he was either unable to decide or unwilling to allow me to become a professional in any sort of trade, he began hiring me out to whoever offered him enough money. It was very stressful not knowing what sort of work I would be doing on any given day.

As for being treated better now that I was valuable, I had no such luck. Dominus informed me that I would need several reminders that I was _his_ slave, so he made sure I had enough responsibilities to keep me occupied. I still had to wash his feet, even though such work is traditionally reserved for the least valuable slave in a household.

I was also in charge of helping my master with his toga each morning. Most male citizens of Rome, the only people allowed to wear such garments, put on their togas only for certain occasions, such as public events, for the yards of wool are rather cumbersome; however, Dominus insisted on wearing his every day to flaunt his wealth and social status.

"Be grateful you don't have to wear this ungainly garment!" he often complained.

Although I always replied, "I am indeed grateful, but it suits you well, master," I wouldn't have minded wearing a toga if only it meant I were a true citizen, which was even better than being a mere freedman.

However, I would have been quite content to be nothing more than a freedman, for anything was better than being a slave. It seemed a heavy insult to help someone don yards of material when my own tunic was nearly threadbare.

Having finished assisting my master with his toga, I would then help him put on his sandals. He seated himself comfortably while I rinsed his feet and patted them dry with perfumed oil, a custom I always found unfitting of a morning, for he had not yet been anywhere that day; thus there was no dust to be found on his feet. I always suspected that he delighted in seeing me kneel before him.

As any slave will agree, the best way to wash feet without feeling abased is to imagine you are kneeling in front of someone you would not mind helping in this way. For example, I sometimes imagined that I would be a freedman and have a beautiful wife, and she might be tired from a long day of caring for our children, so I would have her soak her feet in warm water while I gently massaged them. The idea was ludicrous, of course. What did I know about holding or comforting a woman? A union between slaves is hardly considered a legally binding marriage. Besides, although I came closer by the day, I still had yet to feel the start of a beard on my face. How did I know whether or not I would be the kind of man who was a good husband and father? Was this the glory of man, to raise a family?

Once when I washed my master's feet, I pretended that this was Saturnalia, and I was truly the master. He was the slave, and in honor of this festival, we had exchanged roles for the day. The idea of Dominus answering to my every whim was so amusing that I nearly laughed, stopping myself just in time to avoid being flogged.

After his feet were clean, I would take each foot and carefully place it into the sandal, which I would then adjust securely yet comfortably for my master. In addition to being careful, I had to complete these tasks swiftly, for Dominus greatly disliked spending too much time preparing for the day.

Before having my own breakfast, which was so little that I was famished long before it was time for the noon meal, I had to serve my master and his wife. Dominus then informed me what sort of work I would be doing and where I was to report for service that day. If I was late, I could expect to be flogged as soon as I returned home, even if my only reason for tardiness was that it was too great a distance to arrive on foot without having been given an earlier start. If whoever hired me was displeased with my work, I would have no food that evening or the next day.

On days when I was hired by an accountant, I had to be alert for those who were dishonest. It seemed there was no end to the lies that others would tell in order to gain more money. If the sums I wrote had the slightest flaw, I was beaten one stroke per lost quadran, even if the error was not my fault. I thanked the gods that no one ever accused me of losing an aureus.

Working in the library was hardly as pleasurable as one may imagine. The librarian assisted patrons who wished to read the scrolls, and I cleaned the windows and floors or ran errands.

Although I loathed preparing meals, I had already been taught by Kurios years ago. In a way, this was a blessing, for a male slave who is skilled in the kitchen is considered valuable, as are Greek slaves. With nearly any other master, I would have been treated much better. However, even though Dominus was as cruel as ever, I knew that since I earned money for him and was worth more as an educated slave, he was less likely to have me executed for minor offenses, especially since I served in his kitchen as well as that of any baker or street vendor with enough money to hire me for the day.

I hardly missed the difficulties of tending the fields at my master's villa, but there were days I was certain I would have preferred harvesting grain to assisting physicians. It seemed every nationality had different ideas about the best way to cure certain ailments. The only benefit was that I got to see many different methods of treatment, and I began to learn which remedies worked best concerning which diseases or illnesses.

Of course, the doctors never directly taught me about medicine. I merely prepared meals for them or purchased whatever they needed at the market. The medical students were the only ones instructed in how to care for patients, but when one is forced to spend all day with a physician who is lecturing others, one tends to overhear information. As I knew it was hardly any of my business, I made every effort to ignore anything I heard a doctor tell his students. It wasn't as if my life, or anyone else's, would ever depend on my skill as a physician, so these matters clearly were none of my concern; however, as I have mentioned, it was impossible for me to avoid hearing any of their conversations.

No matter how difficult my job for the day had been, I never enjoyed arriving home when my work was finished. While whoever had been my supervisor that day spoke with my master, I would begin my evening chores. Although I was already exhausted from having worked all day, I almost welcomed the duty of seeing to the garden, for the plants were far more clement than any humans I had met. They never told me to work faster or threatened to have me beaten if I didn't meet their incessant demands.

Having finished with the garden, I would answer to Dominus for my work that day. If he was pleased with the job I had done, my only reward would be avoiding any manner of punishment that evening. I would then wash his feet yet again and read to him until he dismissed me so he could retire for the evening.

He often thought of more chores for me. If I returned home from work early enough in the evening, I was often assigned the task of preparing the evening meal. On days when no one hired me, I was in charge of doing laundry. How I despised washing so many garments when my own tunic was nearly threadbare!

I tried to make the best of it. I kept reminding myself that I never knew which skill would be the one that would help me earn a living when I became a freedman. Besides, I would need to learn how to manage my own household, for I refused to be anyone's master; thus I would have no slaves to do errands or chores for me.

Sometimes I could scarcely believe that in Greece, other slaves had been jealous of me. I was envious of these Roman slaves whose masters gave them a new tunic every year and a pair of shoes every two years. I had never known Dominus to give anyone shoes, and as I have previously stated, my own tunic was nearly threadbare, not to mention tattered from frequent beatings.

Had I not tried to be a good slave? Did I not obey my master and try to please him in all things, never answering back or pilfering? What had I done to deserve being treated this way?

There were times when I wondered if dying by a lion's paw was truly worse than living at my master's hands. Was it worse to be killed in the arena as a criminal or to live in this _domus _as a slave?

I often considered this, but then I would wonder if those were really the only two choices. Running away would be too dangerous, but I didn't see how I could stay with Dominus any longer. Perhaps there was a way I could find a kinder master, but until I had formed a definite plan, I would keep to myself.

He lives well who lives unnoticed.


	6. Chapter 6

**VOLUMEN VI**

_Sedit qui timuit ne non succederet._

Theokleia was a great favorite of Domina, dressing her hair every morning and accompanying her wherever she went. Although we were both slaves in the same _domus_, we rarely saw each other or had time to speak. I had often wondered if we could have been friends if only there was time to visit with each other, but we were too busy with our respective duties to converse.

Favoritism had not spared Theokleia from any of the hardships endured by the rest of my master's slaves. She was still given barely enough food to survive, and no one ever treated her with any respect or showed appreciation for anything she did. Although she never mentioned it, I had the feeling that Dominus had committed a few rude behaviors, as was his custom with all his female slaves. Furthermore, I was certain that it wouldn't be much longer before he informed Theokleia which male slave was to have her so she would be able to give him more slaves.

On one particular day when no one had hired me as a worker, I was preparing the noon meal when Theokleia walked into the kitchen. Without a word, she began assisting me with the food. I started to ask if anything was the matter, but before I could speak, I noticed that her hair had been shorn.

"Domina saw her husband stroking my hair, so she cut it." Theokleia sighed. "She says it will be used for a wig. I suppose in a few years, my hair will grow back, but…" Unable to finish her sentence, she sighed again. "I'm not sure what to do. I always thought I'd kill myself before I reached a certain point in my life, but part of me wants to defy the masters by proving that no matter what they force me to do, I will find a way to survive. All I know is that I'll be condemned to the worst punishments in Tartarus before I allow Dominus to have my children as his slaves!" Too proud to allow herself to cry, she began blinking. "May the gods help me. May they show me what I must do and take my fate in their hands."

When Domina sent her on an errand later that afternoon, Theokleia returned home much earlier than expected. The front of her tunic was covered in blood, and her breathing came in shallow gasps.

"Robbers!" she managed to whisper, trembling from the effort of remaining on her feet.

"You foolish girl!" Domina scolded. "How dare you lose the money we sent with you before purchasing the goods we requested?!"

Theokleia's lips moved as if trying to form a reply, but she was unable to make the slightest sound.

"Out with you!" Domina seized her arm and pushed her out the door, closing it firmly.

Dominus frowned, muttering under his breath about slaves being too worthless to run a simple errand.

"Dispose of the body!" he ordered.

I wished he had commanded any of the other slaves to do this horrible task, for it was his custom to leave dead slaves in the woods, claiming it was easier than having them buried or cremated. When he was too far from any forested area for them to be left there, he would have them thrown into a river or placed at the edge of a field.

When I stepped outside, I noticed that Theokleia had not yet perished. She was leaning against the side of the _domus_, struggling to breathe. I was to dispose of someone who was still alive. How could I possibly do something so barbaric?! Taking a deep breath, I reminded myself that I wasn't killing her; I was simply taking her somewhere her final moments could be spent in peace.

"I will walk beside you," she murmured.

Even though I knew she was too weak to journey far, I agreed. If she had already been dead, I would have had no choice but to carry her, but if she was able to walk, it would be easier for us both. To keep herself from collapsing, Theokleia carried a large stick for support. Perhaps it goes without saying that she moved very slowly, trembling from the effort as her breathing worsened. We had gone less than half a mile when she announced that she couldn't take another step.

"I wish to die in that garden," she gasped as soon as she noticed one only a short distance down the road.

"Very well." I walked with her to the public garden, which was thankfully deserted at the moment.

Her strength departed from her, and she fell helplessly to the ground. Unsure of what to do, I knelt beside her. Although I had never before touched another human being except when washing any feet presented to me, I took her hand.

"May the gods be with you," I began. "May they grant that you will not suffer much longer and that you will rest peacefully in the world to come."

Theokleia lightly gripped my hand, taking several breaths before she was able to speak. "What happens to a person who has proven herself to be unworthy of her name?"

"Is it really so important?"

Although conversation was becoming more and more difficult for her, she attempted to explain, "As you know, my name means 'the glory of God,' but I knew I could never live up to it, so I didn't even try. Do you think the gods are displeased?"

I wasn't sure how to answer, but I wished to comfort her. "The gods understand that no mortal could ever live up to their glory. Besides, you are like the roses they have created. Any flower can bloom in a peaceful field, but it takes a blossom of great strength as well as beauty to flourish among thorns."

She smiled. "Do you remember the law? A slave turned out by the master…" She gasped for breath, unable to finish her sentence.

"Is considered free," I concluded. "You spend your last few moments of life as a freedwoman, delivered from bondage into glorious liberty." I tightened my grasp on her hand slightly. "_Amica, non morire!_ Why should you die now when it wasn't until this moment that you truly began to live?"

"_Nihil est. _What harm can death do me? I have my liberty. What else matters? To die free rather than live enslaved…!" A tear slid down her face as she looked toward the sky. "It's so beautiful!" Her eyelids fluttered shut for the final time. "This is the best thing that's ever happened to me!"

Her lips formed a gentle smile as she breathed her last. She had died peacefully without vicious lions or jeering crowds. The shallow gaps of her final breaths had been filled with the perfumed scent of the roses that grew in the garden where she had died, and rather than a shouting mob, the final sounds she had heard had been the melodious warbling of the birds that fluttered from tree to tree. There had been no whips, chains, or final orders from her master. She had chosen for herself how to spend the rest of her life.

This was the death of someone who had been set free. When she was past the point of feeling pain from her wounds, she had the assurance that nothing could ever hurt her again, and although every breath had drawn her closer to the abyss, she had shown no fear. In fact, her eyes seemed to have taken on a sort of light, a gleam that had been hidden by weariness during her life of slavery. She looked so peaceful that although I knew I ought to dispose of the body, I couldn't bear to move her. I considered leaving her where she had fallen.

"What are you doing here, slave?!" a voice behind me demanded brusquely.

Startled by the unexpected sound, I turned to see a woman standing with her arms crossed.

"Forgive me," I answered. "This woman was attacked by robbers. I was simply comforting her during her final moments."

"Have you no chores waiting at home?! Return to your master at once! I doubt your duties include comforting victims of robberies!"

As I returned to Dominus, I couldn't forget how calmly, almost gratefully, Theokleia had accepted her fate. Was it true that dying free was better than living enslaved? I pondered this question more than ever. It was very difficult to argue against the peaceful contentment she had seemed to find. However, I had also seen a slave executed in the arena, and his demise had not been nearly as tranquil or blissful. I certainly had no wish to feel my bones shattered in multiple places before the lion, or whatever other animal was used as my executioner, finally delivered the bite or swipe that ended my suffering. I yearned to go free, but I dared not risk the arena.

I could always hope to be sold to a kinder master, perhaps one that would allow me to earn my freedom, either through years of diligent service or buying my liberty by earning enough coins. However, I was proving valuable to Dominus, for I earned plenty of money for him. If he sold me, it would be as punishment, and I would go to the mines or the galley.

Another hope was that there would be another revolt, such as the one I had heard about that involved someone by the name of Spartacus. However, if I recalled correctly, the revolt had proven unsuccessful, and as Aisopos, one of the wisest men in Greece, had often said: Once deceived is twice as cautious.

Just when I was beginning to think all was lost, I overheard rumors that Dominus and his family were destined for some region of North Africa. Some of their favorite slaves would go with them, but the rest of us would remain in Rome, under the supervision of my master's most trusted friends until his return. He would be gone for at least two years, perhaps as many as five.

Although I was never informed why he was leaving, all that mattered to me was that he would be far from Rome for an extended period of time. It would still be very difficult to attempt to escape, but I would never have a better opportunity. What better time than when my masters were gone? I may have a few weeks before their friends noticed my absence; then I might have another month before my masters were able to return to Rome. By that time, I could have escaped the farthest reaches of the empire. I would bide my time, and when several years had passed, I would be able to make my way to somewhere more pleasant if I no longer cared to live wherever I had managed to find refuge.

Perhaps I could return to Greece eventually, but this time, I would not be a slave. I would earn a living using the skills I had learned during all those times Dominus had hired me out as a worker to anyone who had enough money. If I was patient, worked diligently, and was careful with my money, there was even the chance I could become wealthy. I would hire workers if I needed assistance with anything; I would never become anyone's master.

In time, perhaps I could find a wife. Having spent my entire life as a slave, I had never considered matrimony, for marriages between slaves are not considered legal unions, but when I had become a freedman, I might have the chance to be wed. However, I would not do as Kurios and many other men of Greece had done: I would not marry a woman I barely knew because the arrangement was suitable for both families. I would only marry someone if we loved each other.

How wonderful it was to think that despite a few years as a fugitive, I might one day be a wealthy man with my own wife and children! Surely that was worth the risk!

The choice was mine: I could have this future I had envisioned so often, or I could remain a slave my entire life, suffering from too many beatings and not enough food, until the day I became useless to my masters, either from illness or old age, and I either died as I worked or Dominus found a way to kill me.

As soon as my masters had left for North Africa, I would find a way to put my plan into action. There were many forests around Rome. If I were to sneak out in the middle of the night, I could hide in the woods until I was sure everyone had stopped searching for me. I could then make my way as far from Rome as possible.

I considered the dangers I might encounter. There were robbers lurking in the forest, but all I had was the nearly threadbare tunic I wore. I owned no possessions whatsoever, and I wouldn't be carrying any money, so I was relatively safe from thieves.

There were wolves in the woodlands around Rome, but I had heard that unless rabid or provoked, it wasn't in a wolf's nature to attack a human. In fact, Romulus and Remus had been raised by a she-wolf, or so the legend told. Moreover, after all my time tending livestock at my master's villa, I was sure I had already been watched by wolves more closely than I cared to realize.

My only worry now was lions. I had heard that there were still a few wild lions near Rome, even though most of them had been captured for the arena, and their numbers were so scarce that I was highly unlikely to encounter one. Another source had informed me that there never were lions around the city itself; they only existed in certain parts of the empire, such as North Africa, where my masters were going. Of course, even if there were no lions native to this region, there was always the chance that if any managed to escape on their way to Rome, they could be hiding in the forest.

I certainly had no wish to meet up with a lion, for doing so would merely save my masters the trouble of sending me to the arena. However, if there were any lions in the woodlands near the city, I certainly had never seen any traces of them, so I believed the risk to be relatively small.

Were there other dangerous creatures in the woods? Bears perhaps? Other than wild animals, what unforeseen perils were there? Would I starve? Die from being unable to find water?

None of that mattered. I would be free. Surely it was better to die after spending one hour as a freedman than another few decades as a slave.

On the day my masters left for North Africa, I was excused from doing work for anyone else, for they insisted that I be the one to assist them with final preparations for the voyage. As they began to board the ship, I turned to leave.

"Where are you going?!" Dominus demanded.

"I was returning home to finish my chores, master," I replied.

He sighed impatiently. "Slave, how could you have enough of a brain to serve nearly every trade, but not enough sense to understand that your value to me depends on how much money you earn?! How could you not realize I have always intended for you to accompany me?!"

I could hardly believe what I had heard. "You wish for me to travel to North Africa with you?"

"Just get on the ship!"

"Yes, master."

"Here!" He threw something made of cloth. "Put on this tunic! The one you have now looks too ragged! I can't have anyone in North Africa getting the wrong idea about what kind of master I am!"

"An accurate idea" would have been more fitting, but I kept this retort to myself, humbly thanking my master for the new tunic.

As the ship set sail and the coastline began to get farther and farther away, it seemed my chances of freedom also diminished. Glancing down at the waves, I considered throwing myself overboard, but I noticed Dominus watching me. I wasn't about to give him the satisfaction. I had been only days away from beginning the journey that would have ended with my liberty, but I had waited too long because I was afraid. What chance did I have now?

He who feared he would not succeed sat still.


	7. Chapter 7

**VOLUMEN VII**

_Nullum beneficium est impunitum._

Just as he had in Rome, my master made it known in North Africa that he had an intelligent Greek slave who could assist any man, no matter what his trade. Dominus boasted that other masters allowed their slaves to become an expert at one trade, but his slave was able to do any manner of work.

When I wasn't spending the day serving anyone who gave my master enough money, I was his personal messenger. To be honest, I hardly minded walking until my feet throbbed and burned from traveling great distances, for every moment I spent on the road was one less moment with Dominus. The dusty streets and scorching sun were my respite.

Traveling through the city didn't bother me in the least, but I was often sent on errands to smaller towns. Some of the paths led through remote areas near the wilderness. I wasn't familiar with this country, yet I dared not become lost, for my master wouldn't have hesitated to hire the Fugitivarii to find me. He would never have believed that I had merely lost my way; he would have claimed that I had attempted to escape, and I would have been sent to the arena.

Furthermore, even if I soon found my way after becoming lost, my master expected all messages to be delivered promptly. If I spent even an hour longer than Dominus believed I should have, I would be severely punished.

As if I didn't have enough worries, I greatly feared attacks by wild animals. I was certain that none would dare wander through the city, especially not in broad daylight, but who knew what creatures lurked in these remote areas?

I shall never forget one exceptionally sweltering day when I dared pause long enough to seek shelter beneath a tree. I greatly feared my master's displeasure if I should tarry too long, and I was certain that wells of cool water awaited me at my destination, yet I found myself too weary to travel another step. All that mattered was this bit of shade I had found.

Seating myself comfortably, I leaned against the tree and closed my eyes, pretending for a moment that I was a freedman and that I owned this tree. I imagined there was a well just in front of me, and passersby greeted me with polite words and friendly smiles. I might have dozed if I hadn't suddenly heard a low growl.

In an instant, I was on my feet. I couldn't tell which had startled me more, the fact that there was some wild beast nearby or the thought of what my master would have done to me if I had lost time delivering the message by falling asleep under this tree.

The growl came again, gradually becoming a series of huffing noises that sounded like a cross between a snarl and a cough. Despite the searing heat, I shivered.

"It's a dog," I told myself. "Someone's dog has noticed me, and it doesn't want me to get too close."

I knew it wasn't true. There were no homes near the tree where I rested, so it was highly unlikely a dog would venture this far from the city. Furthermore, I had never known a dog that could imitate a low moan that turned into a cruel rumble. There was only one animal in the world whose growls could rival that of thunder, and this was the only creature I feared more than the scorpions and venomous snakes that plagued these wilderness areas.

The lion roared again. I wouldn't have minded the savage roars and snarls half as much if I could have seen the animal, for I was still unsure how the attack would be launched. If only I knew where the lion was, perhaps I could hide myself or find some way to fight back. It was a forlorn hope, but I was willing to try anything in order to preserve my life. For now, there was nothing to do but wait.

After what seemed like hours but was probably less time than it takes a citizen to put on his sandals and toga, I realized the sounds weren't getting any closer. No matter which direction I looked, I failed to see the approach of any creature. Where was this lion, and why wasn't it attacking me?

Cautiously, I approached the direction of the noise. I had to see what the lion was doing, or I would never know whether or not it was safe for me to continue my errand of delivering the message for Dominus. Trying to avoid stepping on any twigs, I made my way closer as silently as possible.

I saw the pit before I saw the lion. Now I understood what had happened. Some hunters, most likely hired to capture the lion to be shipped to Rome to fight gladiators or execute criminals, had dug a pit and covered it with leaves. Having baited the trap, they knew a lion would eventually wander over to take the meat, and then they would easily be able to capture such a dangerous animal.

Even though I knew now that I was safe and that Dominus would be greatly displeased with any delay, my curiosity got the better of me. Wandering over to the pit, but maintaining a safe distance from the edge, I looked down at the trapped lion. It had only the start of a mane, just as I had only the start of a beard. Just as the mane was the same dark color as my own hair, the lion's fur was the same deep tan that my skin had become from being outdoors so often. Looking back, I wonder what I might have done differently if I had known this would be the lion who would one day seal my fate, but at the time, I hadn't the slightest idea what the future held in store for us both.

"Poor enslaved creature," I remarked aloud. "You'll be starved, beaten, and kept in chains until your captors are ready to send you to the arena, where you will inevitably meet your demise at the hands of a fiercer beast."

I shuddered as I realized I had described my own life.

The lion tried unsuccessfully to leap out of the pit, throwing himself against the dirt walls with all his strength as he clawed the soil, desperately attempting to maintain a solid grip so he could pull himself toward the top, yet collapsing helplessly time after time. After every fall, he would rise to his feet and prepare to leap again. He was determined to die free rather than live as a captive. Judging from his roars and growls, which seemed a combination of savagery and frustration, he wasn't about to give up without a fight. He knew there was no future for anyone who admitted defeat, and he wasn't about to despair. He would bravely continue his fight, ready to die free or die trying to gain his liberty.

This was the same fighting spirit I had felt so often, yet had never dared put into action. Although I feared lions above all else, I couldn't allow this one to be condemned to the arena. Besides, even in his anger, this creature seemed far less dangerous than my own master.

All I needed was a way to raise the lion a few feet so he would be able to leap out of the pit, but how was I to accomplish such a task? If this were a human, I could find something to use as a rope, but how would I be able to lift a lion? He would be far too heavy, not to mention his lack of opposable thumbs that would enable him to grasp the rope. Furthermore, it would be foolish to approach such a dangerous creature, especially one that was already furious.

Looking around the area, I noticed a large stump that leaned to one side. Perhaps it would help the lion gain the height he needed to escape. It would be very difficult to finish uprooting the stump and roll it toward the pit, which was a considerable distance away, but I had built up a few muscles during my time as a field hand. Without a moment's hesitation, I began working to free the stump from the ground. The roughness of the wood dug into my hands, but I reminded myself that someone else was depending on me for his freedom. Perhaps I would never have liberty, but it was within my power to grant this blessing to another who truly deserved it.

When the stump was uprooted, I began trying to push it onto its side. It was heavier than it had seemed, and I was breathless by the time it fell. I couldn't give up now. Freedom was at stake.

Ignoring the pain in the muscles of my back and arms, I began rolling the stump toward the pit. I contemplated praying silently, begging the gods that I would not be discovered by whoever had trapped this lion, but I knew I was stealing from these hunters. As soon as he had entered the pit, the lion had become their property. Does a thief have the right to appeal to the gods? Which one of them would be willing to listen to such a man, especially when the thief was a slave?

Aisopos had once warned that there came a time in every life when what had seemed like an excellent idea suddenly proved to be nothing more than a demonstration of imprudence. I was beginning to believe that this was one of those moments. What would a formerly trapped lion do to an exhausted man? If I valued my life, I would stop rolling the stump and leave immediately. However, I couldn't bear to leave an innocent creature to a cruel fate, even if it meant I risked one that would be just as brutal.

It occurred to me that perhaps I could calm the lion. If he knew I meant no harm, he would be less willing to attack. There was still the chance that despite my best intentions, the lion would eat me as soon as he had regained his liberty, but I wondered if I truly had anything to lose at this point.

"_Nunc sodalis laxa_," I coaxed. "Just relax and try to take it easy. _Nunc facile cape._"

Having reached the edge of the pit, I pushed the stump upright, very carefully shoving it forward so it wouldn't turn on its side when it fell. The lion stared up at me, curious to know what I was doing, but ready to fight if I proved to be one of his captors. The fierce anger in his eyes burned like wildfire.

I sincerely apologized for what I was about to do, begging his forgiveness. "_Propter factum me factum iri, paenitentissimus sum. Da mihi veniam amabo te._"

So saying, I shoved the stump past the pit's edge. Just as I had planned, it landed vertically. The lion, startled by the sudden drop of a heavy wooden object, began racing around the pit, snarling with rage.

"I didn't mean to frighten you," I stated. "I only wanted you to have the chance to go free."

To make amends, I took the bread that Dominus had given me for my noon meal and tossed it into the pit. The lion sniffed at it, realized it was some form of food, and devoured it. He then began investigating the stump, wasting no time leaping on top of it.

Although I pitied this creature, I hadn't forgotten that this was a wild lion, so I retreated a safe distance away before turning to watch. There were a few more snarls and huffing growls; then with a final roar and a tremendous leap, the lion had freed itself. Despite my attempt to hide, I could tell from the way he stared my direction that the lion knew exactly where I was. For a moment, I wondered if I had done a foolish thing, releasing my murderer to spare my master the effort of sending me to the arena.

Despite my fear, I was happy that my new acquaintance was safe, for I knew it would be difficult for any hunters to trap the lion again, whether by a pit or other means, for as Aisopos always claimed, once deceived is doubly cautious.

The lion seemed to agree, for he held his head at a proud angle, as if saying, "Keep me from the snares they have laid for me! Let the wicked fall into their own nets while I escape!"

He suddenly darted off in the opposite direction. For whatever reason, he had considered me neither a threat nor his prey, and now he only wanted to flee before his captors returned.

My heart rejoiced at having helped another regain his liberty, as if I had freed a part of myself as well. However, I had failed to notice the changing angle of the sun. I was well over an hour late delivering the message for my master, and as soon as I returned, he demanded to know where I had been. By the time he finished with me, I was barely able to move my back or arms.

No good deed goes unpunished.


	8. Chapter 8

**VOLUMEN VIII**

_Audaces fortuna iuvat._

Once a week, I was required to make purchases at the market and distribute them to my master's friends, who would tell Dominus in advance what they needed. I didn't understand why their own slaves couldn't go to the market for them, but I believe Dominus frequently boasted of my skills at bargaining. At first I despised this chore, for I found it unfitting to serve the masters of other slaves when I already did so much for my own master; however, many of his friends lived some distance away from the bustling city, and the paths leading to their homes were near remote areas of wilderness. It was the perfect place to meet my friend.

I shall never forget the first time we shared a meal together. After spending all morning purchasing the requested items from the market, I was returning to my master when I saw Amicus. The lion was napping under a tree several feet away when I noticed him, but before I could choose a different route, he lifted his head, staring at me with golden eyes. Amicus approached me cautiously, yet he seemed curious. Unsure of what to do, I remained perfectly still. When he got close enough, I realized this was the same lion I had seen in the pit.

"_Salve, mi amice_," I greeted, delighted to see him again. "_Bonum est te denuo videre._ How are you enjoying your freedom?"

He stopped several feet away from me. Amicus seemed exceptionally bold, even for a lion, yet I somehow felt I was in no danger.

"Would you care to break bread together as friends do?"

I held out a loaf, which I had managed to obtain from the market at no extra expense because the bread was slightly stale. Although I had intended to devour it because Dominus had given me no breakfast that day, I preferred the idea of sharing it. Having broken the bread into two parts, I gave Amicus the larger half, throwing it lightly so he wouldn't think I was trying to hit him.

He eagerly scarfed down his bread in one mouthful as I ate mine. Was this what it was like to share a meal with a friend, to enjoy each other's company without worrying about who was serving the other?

It was nearly comical the way two different species, both slightly afraid yet extremely curious about the other, could set aside differences in their respective languages and ways of life in order to share a meal. I had never before met two humans, my own kind, who could do as much. Could different species also save each other from slavery? I nearly laughed at the idea. Freeing a lion had been a terrible risk, although I certainly had no regrets about doing so, but how could this creature possibly grant my liberty?

From that day forward, I never again dreaded the thought of meeting a lion as I journeyed away from the city. I began to enjoy my weekly errand to the market, for Amicus learned to anticipate my visits, and he never missed an opportunity to share food with me. For my part, I always made sure we had some form of meal, no matter how meager, even if I had to use my own rations. I offered him the weak broth or occasional scraps of meat, always of poor quality, that I had been given.

Instead of keeping his distance as he had during our first several meetings, Amicus became fearless enough to stand next to me, as a dog would. I'll never forget the first day I tentatively reached out to stroke his shoulder. I had expected him to bolt or perhaps growl, but he remained nonchalant. How was it that I was able to approach a lion without fear when even my master's dogs had been ruthless?

During one of our meetings, Amicus dropped some manner of deceased rodent into my hand. The mangled creature was already missing its head. I was quite unsure what to do with this corpse, but my friend looked up at me in eager anticipation. Surely he didn't expect me to…

He did. I could see it in his eyes. If I didn't, he would be very disappointed.

Unable to believe what I was doing, I quickly built a small fire and roasted the unidentifiable rodent on a spit I had made from fallen branches. Amicus seemed confused, no doubt wondering why I didn't just place this gift into my mouth and devour it, as he did with his food, not to mention his bewilderment at this strange orange glow that humans made before having their meals. However, the fire didn't frighten him as it did most wild animals, and he seemed immensely pleased when I finally began eating.

I was deeply moved. To show his gratitude for providing meals, meager as they were, Amicus had shared his own food with me. I wondered if he had an abundance of meat or if hunting was still a challenge for him since he was still a young lion, and this rodent he had given me was all he had been able to find that day.

From that day forward, he never failed to bring something to our meetings. I never knew what he would have to offer, but I always enjoyed the way we shared our food with each other. Sometimes he would give me a dead bird. Once he brought an antelope. I made sure to save plenty for him, but I had never been offered so much meat at once, and I relished the feast so much that my master's other slaves seemed confused when I seemed full after our meager rations of barley porridge that evening.

Despite my joy in seeing him, I always feared we would one day be discovered. Although the path where we met was near a remote area of wilderness, it was still a public road. I worried that the day would come when someone noticed I had befriended a lion. Would that person kill the lion and tell Dominus what I had done? Amicus also seemed uneasy near a road where he could scent the presence of humans. For these reasons, our meetings were always brief.

Over time, his mane grew fuller. I could tell he was no longer an adolescent creature attempting to figure out just what it meant to be a real lion. He was becoming more muscular and certainly more powerful.

Since he was incapable of speaking any human languages, he was the perfect confidante. I could tell him anything without fear that he would inform my master what I had said.

"Lions are powerful creatures," I remarked one day. "Are you a master among other animals?" I sighed. "Dominus is a real thorn in my side."

Slaves must be careful not to show too much audacity, if any at all, but the day came when I dared make a suggestion to my master. As I washed his feet one evening, I requested permission to speak.

"This had better be important, slave!" he retorted.

"_Domine_," I began, "the expenses of the household are none of my concern, but since my master favors the taste of fresh fish, would it not save coins by catching the fish rather than having to purchase them?"

He considered this a moment. "You have half an hour after your errands in the market tomorrow, and you had better catch something!"

Amicus seemed surprised when I left the path and wandered to the nearest stream. Sitting on the bank, I soaked my feet in the water for as long as I dared. The coolness of the water was refreshing, and it was so clear that I couldn't resist tasting it. I had heard some people say it was never safe to drink from streams; one must always drink only from wells. However, the water that my master had always given me had never been as pure as what I now drank from the stream.

There was no time to lose. If I didn't catch any fish, Dominus would be furious. Taking my net in hand, I began trying to think of the best way to begin my task. When I had suggested the idea, I had merely been trying to find a way to spend more time with my friend without my absence being noticed.

Hearing a splashing sound, I looked downstream. Several yards away, Amicus had just captured a huge fish, which flopped helplessly in his massive jaws before he proudly dropped it at my feet. Picking up a large stone, I had no sooner ended the fish's torment before my friend brought me another. To this day, I'm not sure how he sensed I had been attempting to catch fish, but he brought me several of them before catching some for himself.

Since I had time to spare and plenty of fish, I cooked one over a fire. To thank Amicus for his help, I offered him some more bread, and we enjoyed our loaf and fish as much as any wealthy man had ever enjoyed his dinner party.

We trusted each other completely. He would often place his paw in my hands, a gesture I had taught him because I was curious to know how a handshake felt, and at times, he would greet me by placing his paws on my shoulders, usually knocking me over by accident. If he chose to do so, he could put enough weight behind those paws to break my bones instantly, but he was always careful to control his strength.

However, not all lions were as kind as Amicus. I was reminded again of the grave danger I faced, for my master's friends, who came to dine with him one evening, spoke of a ferocious lion that attacked livestock. This lion had spent several weeks raiding farms, and instead of killing animals that were already sick or weak, it killed the strongest and healthiest. It was so powerful that it could subdue an ox without ever having been gored by the other creature's horns.

"We're trying to capture it so we can send it to the arena," one of the guests informed Dominus. "Just imagine how brutally it would fight other animals!" He sipped his wine. "I almost pity the criminal forced to face it!"

"Why bother sending it to the arena?!" another man argued. "I cannot afford to keep losing livestock! Besides, this creature is wily enough to avoid every trap imaginable and several that haven't been imagined yet! We must kill it!"

"Not at all!" the first visitor replied. "When we finally send it to the arena, it should fetch a handsome enough price to see you well repaid for any animals you may have lost!"

I shuddered. What if I were condemned to face this same lion because I had run away from my master? The more I heard, the more I was convinced that I would never dare attempt to escape.

What of Amicus? If he met this more vicious lion, was he strong enough to win the fight, or would my only friend be killed by such a ruthless creature? Would they be able to compromise rather than battle to the death since they were both the same species, or were lions the same as humans when it came to flaunting their ability to harm others of their kind?

I barely slept that night. The following day would be my weekly errand to the market. Surely Amicus would be waiting for me, and I would see that he was perfectly fine and that all my worries were senseless.

When I finally arrived at the place where we usually met near the path, he wasn't there. Searching the area, I found a few tracks. It looked as if a lion about his size were limping. I sorrowfully concluded that my poor friend must have injured one of his paws, a death sentence to any animal that had to run to catch its food. With such a vicious lion in the area, Amicus could also be killed or chased away by his rival, for how could he fight if his paw was wounded? Even if he escaped starvation, execution, or exile, he risked meeting his demise if the injury should become infected. I would have given anything if only I could save my friend's life.

I tried to do my duties as an obedient slave, but I must admit I was distracted that day. My only friend was slowly dying of starvation, and there was nothing I could do to help him.

"Work faster, _serve_!" Dominus commanded. "Your mind seems to be wandering!"

I did as my master ordered, trying to console myself so he wouldn't see my distress. There was no need to assume the worst. Amicus may have twisted an ankle or gotten a slight nick on his paw, and with a few days of rest, he should be fine. He would meet me the following week, and we would share a meal together once more.

Despite my best efforts, Dominus wasn't satisfied with the pace of my work, and he scourged me. As I attempted to sleep that night, my mind wandered to the ever present question that plagued me: Was it better to live a slave or die a freedman?

This time, a new thought crossed my mind: Did my master truly want to kill me? Slaves are expensive, especially if they are educated. Would he send me to the mines, galley, workhouse, or arena, or would he find some excuse to spare my life, perhaps settling for breaking my bones or branding my forehead or some other common punishment for slaves who attempt to escape? Did he intend to make sure I remained with him simply by ensuring I lived in fear of what the penalty would be for seeking liberty?

How many more times would I endure scourging? When would I finally be given enough to eat? What would I give if I could be free for only a day?

I dared not risk running away now. If caught, I could not survive another scourging. I had already lost too much blood from my wounds. However, I was more likely to be sent to the arena, and…

My mind wandered back to the slave I had seen mauled to death by the lion. His suffering had ended after only a few agonized screams. Mine had lasted ever since Dominus had become my master, not to mention the previous years I had spent with Kurios.

If I left now, I would surely die from my injuries, for the wilderness was merciless to the wounded or weak. However, I would slip away quietly rather than being executed before thousands of spectators, and in the last few moments of my life, I would be free. In the miraculous event that I survived, I would be closer to achieving the life I had envisioned so often. If any wild animals noticed my helpless state, they would simply end my suffering. My back ached dreadfully, and I would have given anything, even my life, if only the torment would cease. Furthermore, I had lost my only friend. What harm could anyone, human or animal, possibly do to me now?

Before I could stop myself, I had finally made my decision. Without waking any of my master's other slaves, I gathered a few supplies I would need and placed them into a bag. I felt slightly guilty for my theft, but by running away, I was already stealing my master's property: myself.

Fortune favors the brave.


	9. Chapter 9

**VOLUMEN IX**

_Non omnis moriar._

Slipping out the door, I made my way through the city as quickly as possible. My heart raced frantically as I considered what I was doing, but there would be no turning back now. The streets that were so crowded during the day were now deserted. Every now and then, a dog barked, forcing me to conceal myself in the shadows until I was certain that no humans had noticed me.

When I reached the path near the wilderness, I hesitated. Was this my only option? Perhaps it would be wiser to flee to another city where there would be markets to visit when I had used the last of my supplies. Should I continue on the road and risk being captured or should I flee into a desolate place where there was no guarantee that I would be able to find what I needed to survive? With the fearsome lion that was attacking livestock, did I dare chance the wilderness? With humans who would be able to guess from my wounded back that I was a slave escaping his master, did I dare risk staying on the road? It seemed I would be fed to lions either way, so I chose to meet my demise without the presence of jeering throngs.

Fleeing into the wilderness proved to be more difficult than I had ever imagined. I soon discovered that lions were the least of my worries. The uneven ground caused me to stumble in the darkness. I had no intention of giving Dominus the advantage by falling and breaking my leg, but it was difficult trudging through this heavily wooded area. The dirt that inevitably found its way into my open wounds nearly caused me to cry out, but I dared not make the slightest noise. Now that I was a fugitive, I would either keep my silence here or shout before thousands of spectators at the arena if anyone found me.

Nearly every sound filled me with terror. I had not minded hearing these noises by day when Amicus was with me, for I had reasoned that no other animals would dare to attack me when I was standing next to a lion. However, I was alone at night, injured and nearly helpless as my strength continued to diminish. What creatures lurked in the darkness, eager to devour prey that could be overpowered without much effort? I had heard hunters mention that leopards hunted at night.

Looking at the stars, I listened to the crickets chirping. The night was still, and I began to believe I had no reason for fear. Everything seemed too peaceful for there to be the slightest hint of danger.

Suddenly I heard a whistling howl that sounded like a combination of a squeal and a yelp. I shuddered, wondering what sort of creature made such a noise. In the distance, I noticed something that resembled a dog. Even though I had never seen one before, I knew this must be a jackal. Although attacks on humans were extremely rare, jackals occasionally ate livestock. It looked my direction, as if trying to figure out what strange animal I must be, but it soon lost interest and continued on its way.

My frayed tunic caught on briers and low branches. At least it hardly mattered at this point. My only garment couldn't possibly become any more tattered than it already was. All that remained intact was my right sleeve. The left was nothing more than a thin strip of fabric over my shoulder.

Greatly weakened from my wounds, I soon found myself unable to stand. I couldn't stop now. I would die free or die trying. As a slave, I had never been considered a human being, so I had no qualms about crawling on my hands and knees like an animal, dragging the few supplies I had taken from my master. They seemed to grow heavier by the minute, but they were essential to my survival, and no matter how difficult it was to bring them with me, I could not allow myself to abandon them. Moreover, if they were discovered, they would lead the Fugitivarii to me as a beacon led ships to a lighthouse.

Nothing lasts forever, not even anguish. I reminded myself what would happen when this nightmare had finally ended. I would soon recover from my wounds, and with my newfound strength, I would make my way to the closest region that wasn't controlled by the Roman Empire. In just a few short years, none of this would matter. I would be a freedman, perhaps even…

A sudden, sharp pain in my hand interrupted my reverie. Was there any place in this wilderness that didn't have thorns that were even longer than my thumb?! Jerking out the one that had embedded near my palm, I continued on my way.

"_Nihil est_," I told myself, trying to ignore the red stain on my hand. "It's nothing but another obstacle I've overcome on my way to freedom."

To keep my spirits up, I attempted to think of happier things. What would Amicus say if he saw me crawling like this? No doubt he would have been highly amused, or else completely bewildered, to see a human walking as a lion. I wondered if it was possible for a lion to walk on two legs like a human, but I doubted it. Surely it would be extremely difficult to balance.

To take my mind off the abrasions on my hands and knees, not to mention my great fear of what creatures may have lurked in the shadows of the ebony night, I continued to think about my future. What would my wife look like? Would she be tall and slender or shorter and a bit stouter? What color would her hair be? Her eyes? Would we have any children eventually? Even though I knew that sons are generally preferred, I believed I would be able to love a daughter just as much.

Just imagine having a true home at last! I could nearly taste the fresh fish on my plate as I listened to the sound of chariot wheels on the street. I could almost hear my wife laughing softly as the baby in her arms cooed and waved its pudgy hands. My wife would hold the child to the window so he or she could see everything outside, and I would stand beside them both, giving thanks that I had been blessed with such happiness. He who finds a wife finds a good thing and obtains favor.

How would it feel to have her head resting on my shoulder? I had never embraced another human being, but surely if I had a wife, I would hold her in my arms to remind her how much I loved her. What would it be like to have someone to share my life until death parted us?

The sudden fall brought me back to reality. I was in a desolate area of wilderness in the middle of the night, trying to escape without the strength to crawl. No matter how many times I tried to push myself to my hands and knees, I remained lying flat in the dirt. Although I had wished to journey until dawn, I was too weak to do anything more than drag myself along the ground like a lizard or a serpent, and unless I wanted to be found the next morning, I would have to abandon my attempts to flee. If I was to have a chance of survival, let alone freedom, I had to find shelter immediately.

Perhaps it was too late already. I heard low growls nearby. Some savage beast had scented the blood of this wounded creature, helplessly dragging himself through the woodlands.

Having managed to lift my head, I noticed a cave in the distance. I had never seen a more beautiful sight. Slowly inching through the dirt, I wondered if I would survive long enough to reach the mouth of the cave. Progress was much slower than I would have liked, for I had to pause several times for breath.

Concluding that all efforts were in vain, I decided I may as well die here. Would it really be so awful to slip away peacefully under the myriads of stars? Despite my pain, I managed to smile. There was nothing that anyone could do to me now. My suffering would end before anyone discovered I had run away from my master. If I was devoured by wild animals, I would feel nothing, for I would already be dead.

My newfound peace of mind was shattered by one tormenting thought. For some reason I couldn't explain, I felt as if I had to reach the cave. It seemed as if something awaited me there, yet I was unsure what to expect. No matter how many times I attempted to dismiss such a ludicrous notion, the idea returned, compelling me to strive to finish my journey to the cave only a few yards away from my outstretched arms. Rationalizing that perhaps it was foolish to give up when I had already come so far, I determined to try a final time.

"May the god who made this cave help me to reach it," I prayed silently.

Now I understood that I had lived in fear of the wrong punishment. For years, I had dreaded the arena, but _this_ was the true struggle between life and death, the conflict that would determine my freedom or slavery. I was wounded in a place where I was surrounded by wild animals, but it was against my injuries rather than fearsome beasts that I fought for enough strength to spend just one more moment as a freedman.

Taking the deepest breath I could, although it was still barely more than a gasp, I used all my strength to dig my elbows into the dirt and push myself forward. I repeated this procedure several times, each time feeling even more of my strength ebb away. Just as I was ready to give up again, my outstretched hands touched solid rock.

By the time I had managed to enter the cave, I was trembling from the effort. Although I was weaker than I had ever been in my life, I had never been more elated. It was over. I was free. There was no one in this cave to beat me or condemn me to chains. Keeping my liberty would certainly be a difficult battle, but I had finally obtained the prize that had haunted my dreams for years. I would die here or, if by some miracle I recovered, I would continue on my way tomorrow evening, putting some more distance between myself and the Fugitivarii.

"_Gratias_," I whispered, hoping that whichever god had helped me reach the cave could hear my breathless prayer. "_Gratias tibi, libertus sum."_

I fell into a light doze between two large, white stones that were oddly shaped. The cave had many of these peculiar rocks, some of which had stains as bright red as those on my tunic. A restful sleep would have been preferable, but lying on ground made of solid rock was hardly the most comfortable place I'd ever slumbered, not to mention I had several abrasions and bruises from my poorly planned escape into the wilderness. It goes without saying that my back still ached dreadfully. Furthermore, there was a slight chill to the night air.

In my state of exhaustion, I overheard the sound of something entering the cave. I was too tired to care what it might have been. Besides, it was probably a harmless enough creature.

The footsteps sounded unusual, as if the top of one paw were dragged along the ground rather than the bottom of the paw being placed firmly as the other three were. The sound of the approaching animal's gait changed again, as if the creature hopped on three paws, lifting the fourth entirely off the ground.

Surely it was nothing. I had to be dreaming. What sort of animal had four paws but only walked on three?

I was nearly asleep again when I heard the creature make a noise of frustration and distress. The only time I had heard that sound was when I had first found Amicus in the pit.

Amicus! Why hadn't I noticed the strong scent of lion in the cave? Those white stones of unusual shapes had to be bones of the animal's recent victims. Judging from the size of some of the bones, the lion had recently killed large animals.

Out of all the lions in Northern Africa, I had met up with the vicious livestock thief! If this lion was ruthless enough to devour large animals in their prime of life, what chance did I have in my weakened state?

I heard a soft scraping noise, as if the lion were cleaning its paw with its tongue. While it was distracted, I could attempt to hide myself. Having dragged myself behind a rock, I could do no more, for although my brief rest had strengthened me a bit, I still lacked the stamina to run, and there was nowhere else to hide. Why hadn't I thought to build a fire?

Hearing the lion limp toward me, I closed my eyes and awaited the worst. Noticing my wounds immediately, the creature passed its rough tongue over my injured back, causing me to cry out and turn on my side so my back was to the rock. Undeterred, the lion began licking my hands, which had been abraded as I had crawled through the wilderness. Why didn't my executioner just put me out of my misery with a swift bite rather than prolonging my torment by augmenting the pain of my injuries?

This was the cruelest form of a battle of wits I had ever faced. Every time I turned so one wound would be out of the lion's reach, it simply found another. How long would it be before the lion tired of this game and ended my life? Was this how a mouse felt in the clutches of a cat?

All was lost. There was nothing to do but accept the fact that I was about to be killed.

"_Ego mortuus!"_ I muttered._ "Fata se in pedes meos coniciunt!_"

I wished I could think of any fitting last words, but I was still exhausted. My only thought was hoping my death would come quickly before I had suffered an extreme amount of agony from broken bones. I could only imagine what sort of legacy my failed escape would create.

Not all of me shall die.


	10. Chapter 10

**VOLUMEN X**

_Malo periculosam, libertatem quam quietam servitutem._

Rather than mauling me, the lion limped away after a while. Opening my eyes, I noticed it lying down a short distance in front of me, continuously licking and gnawing one of its front paws. Realizing that it wasn't going to attack, I crawled out from behind the rock. At that moment, I felt tremendously relieved yet exceedingly foolish.

"Forgive me, my friend. I did not recognize you."

Amicus looked up at me for a few moments before continuing to clean his paw.

"_Quid est?_" I asked gently. "Is there anything I can do to help you?"

Finding myself able to rise after my brief rest, I approached cautiously. Amicus may have been a friend that would stick closer than a brother, but he was still a wounded lion, perhaps one who hadn't eaten for a few days. Even my master's dogs had been more prone to bite when they weren't feeling well.

"_Ego promitto tibi non nocere_," I promised. "After all this time, you should know I'm not going to harm you."

Touching his shoulder, I kept my feet on the ground and bent my knees until I was sitting on my heels. I was ready to spring to my feet and move back quickly if necessary, but I was also close enough to his paw to help him.

"_Licet videam_," I coaxed, stroking the shoulder and gradually working my way down to the injured paw.

When I got too close, he immediately drew the paw closer to himself to keep me from touching it. Judging from how swollen it was, Amicus must have been in angst.

"Let me see," I repeated.

I thought perhaps if I gave him some food, it would distract him long enough for me to see what the problem was, so I walked over to the supplies I had brought. By the time I returned with a loaf of bread, Amicus was lying on his side. His injured paw rested on top of the other.

"_Esurisne?_"

Why had I bothered asking? It seemed that no matter how much he ate, my friend was always hungry. I had never seen him refuse food. Moreover, he was sure to be famished if his swollen paw had hindered his ability to hunt.

"_Omne bene habebit_," I assured him, placing the bread within his reach before sitting on my heels once more.

He didn't seem to believe my promise that all would be well, but the gift of food made a nice distraction. Lightly pinning his wrist, I carefully slipped my other hand under his wounded paw. He offered no resistance, so I leaned in a bit closer to inspect the injury. When I saw the cause of his agony, I winced. My poor friend had trod upon what seemed to be one of the longest thorns in the area. I wondered how many days he had suffered.

I had never enjoyed the task of removing sharp objects that had become lodged in wounds. Pulling too slowly or carefully resulted in prolonging the discomfort of removing the impaled object, but jerking too quickly or firmly could cause the object to break or become more deeply embedded. Either way caused more suffering for the unfortunate victim. It was even more difficult once the injured area was swollen. I had found that the best strategy was tightly gripping the item as close to the base as possible and swiftly giving a steady pull.

Although I had spent my entire life dreaming about becoming a freedman, I never imagined that my first few hours of liberty would be spent as a wounded fugitive crawling through the wilderness in the middle of the night, and I had certainly never envisioned tending an injured lion. However, I knew I had to quit stalling. It would be unpleasant for Amicus, but I had to do what was necessary to save his life from starvation or infection, and he probably wouldn't be willing to leave his paw in my hands for more than a few brief moments.

"_Exiguum doleat_," I warned.

I felt slightly ashamed for lying to my friend. Although I would be as careful as possible and try to finish quickly, it would most likely hurt him more than I had admitted. "_Vehementer_" would have been more honest, but of course, I didn't wish to alarm him.

In one motion, I seized and removed the thorn, immediately pressing the paw to clear the infection, but I still kept a close eye on Amicus, ready to step back quickly if he raised his head. No sooner had I barely touched his paw than he began growling. Ignoring my survival instincts, I continued my work, fully aware that this may be my only chance to tend his paw, for he would be highly unlikely to allow me near it again.

"The worst is nearly over for you," I soothed, reaching up to stroke his side with one hand as I continued to press his paw with the other. "Just another moment or two, and…"

His growl became a roar, and his claws were beginning to unsheathe. As soon as he raised his head, I released the paw and backed away immediately. Worst of all were his eyes. I had seen anger in his eyes when he had been trapped in the pit, but I was saddened by the way he now looked at me. The message of suspicion was clear. He had trusted me as his friend, and I had caused him to suffer more. Unable to understand that I had only been doing what was necessary for his paw to heal, Amicus believed I had betrayed him. He finally turned his head and began cleaning his paw again.

Slowly making my way to the few supplies I had, I found a canteen of water. It was all I had, but I wasn't particularly thirsty at the moment, and when I was feeling stronger, I would be able to find more water from a nearby stream or river.

I also found a small jar of balsam that I had brought for the purpose of tending my own wounds. As I had not been strong enough to sit up, I hadn't used any yet, but now I saw a better purpose for it. Although I only had a little, there was enough to ease the pain and draw out the infection of my friend's injury.

When Amicus had settled, I cautiously approached him again. He seemed to take solace when I stroked his shoulder, just as I had seen humans comforted by having a friend grip their own shoulders, although I had never had the chance to experience the gesture. Rubbing his mane and lightly scratching him behind the ears, I offered him some of the water. He seemed a little confused by the canteen, but his tongue lapped at the water I managed to pour into his mouth. As if to assure me that he had forgiven me for augmenting his pain, my friend also began licking my hand.

Once more, I sat on my heels. After I had examined the injured paw again to make sure no infection remained, I carefully rinsed the wound. All those years spent washing feet had finally proven useful, for they had taught me how to help my friend. Amicus seemed to accept the procedure as a strange way humans had of licking an injury, as one animal will sometimes do to another. He seemed confused by the balsam I placed on his paw, but he remained still.

I had brought linen from my master's home, but even the slight effort of helping my friend was proving to be too much for me in my weakened state. I lacked the stamina to walk to the supplies and back once more, for my hands already quavered slightly. Knowing the thin strap of cloth that served as my left sleeve would keep my tunic in place, I tore off the right sleeve and used it to bandage my friend's paw.

"Feeling better?"

Amicus seemed at ease, but I was more exhausted than ever. I had used the last of my strength to help my friend. Lying on my stomach, I fell asleep almost instantly, no longer caring if I survived or perished.

In the middle of the night, I dreamed that someone cleaned the wounds on my back and sides. Although this person was trying to be gentle, it hurt dreadfully, for I was rather sore, and the warm cloth used for my injuries was slightly rough. I wished that whoever was acting the part of my physician would cease tending my wounds, which were even deeper than I cared to admit. Unable to stand the torture a moment longer, I attempted to pull away, but a large, calloused hand held me in place.

There was only one thing to do. I would have to ask the other person to be so kind as to leave me in peace. If necessary, I would beg for mercy. What were these sounds that resembled the low groans of a wounded animal? Surely these noises weren't from my own throat.

After the first few strokes of the cloth, the pain eased somewhat. In fact, the warm water was nearly soothing. I felt reassured that somehow all would be well. When the cloth moved to the abrasions I had gotten on my hands and knees during the time I had crawled, I made no protest, for I knew the ensuing relief would be well worth the initial discomfort.

However, I was not at all happy to have my feet tended. Although I did have inevitable lacerations from a lifetime spent without sandals, I despised having someone else wash my feet. I knew from personal experience how demeaning it was to do such a thing for another person, and I wished to abase no one. It would have been no trouble at all for me to have been handed the cloth so I could care for my foot injuries without troubling anybody else to do so.

Succored by this mysterious visitor, I began to drift into a deeper sleep, but not before feeling something soft and warm placed at my side. Surely this had to be a blanket. I'd never had one before, but it was very large and comfortable. No wonder Dominus had always seemed so well rested when he woke each morning! He always used a blanket when he slept.

What was this soft object under my head? Perhaps this was a pillow. I had often seen Dominus leaning up against pillows to relax, and I knew he rested his head on one as he slept each night, but I had never had the chance to use a pillow in any manner. How wonderful it felt! Having one's head and shoulders supported comfortably was certainly relaxing!

I nestled closer to my blanket. To my surprise, it moved slightly, just as my ribs moved each time I took a breath. I concluded that the wind was blowing my blanket. This logic would also explain why I heard a sound that resembled deep breathing.

I didn't understand why my pillow had also moved. Didn't my head weigh enough to keep the wind from blowing it? Maybe I had turned my neck without realizing it.

More comfortable than I had ever been in my life, I fell into a dreamless sleep. It was the most restful slumber I could remember, and for once, I wouldn't be forced to rise before dawn.

This was how a freedman fell asleep of an evening, relaxed and comfortable with a blanket and pillow. No one would flog him if he didn't greet each day before the sun itself. He stretched without feeling chains cut into his wrists and ankles, and when he turned in his sleep, he had no fear of being bitten by the rats that crawled over him at night. Any injuries he may have obtained would be tended properly so they would have a chance to heal, that he may soon be well. His friends found ways to wish him a good night and pleasant dreams before he began his slumber. Sleeping in freedom was even better than resting in peace.

My only regret was that I hadn't thought of running away sooner. It had been an arduous journey, but even falling asleep as a freedman had been worth everything I had been through that evening. I knew then that there was nothing I would be unwilling to risk in order to maintain my liberty.

I prefer dangerous freedom to peaceful slavery.


	11. Chapter 11

**VOLUMEN XI**

_Fortuna vitrea est; tum cum splendet frangitur_.

When I woke the next morning, I wondered if this was how it felt for someone who had slept off the effects of drinking an excess of _vinum_. I was very stiff from having been scourged and dragging myself through the wilderness the previous evening, and for a moment, I wondered how I would have the strength to do my chores.

Then I remembered I would have no work, for I had become a freedman. I was no longer with Dominus; I was…I didn't remember exactly where.

Keeping my eyes shut, I tried to remember what had happened. There had been a blanket and a pillow, both of which had mysteriously vanished, and someone had cleaned my wounds with warm water. It had been excruciating, for the cloth had been rough, but I could tell that whoever had helped me hadn't been trying to cause more pain, and my back had hurt considerably less after…

My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of unusual footsteps. It sounded as if there was a large creature that walked on four legs, but it was recovering from a limp.

Someone had perished, for the stench of death was heavy. It was so strong that I worried that I was lying close to the body. The thought alarmed me, yet I feared to move until I was absolutely certain of my surroundings.

Feeling something nudging my ribs, I turned my head slightly. Now I remembered. I was in a cave with Amicus. At least I hoped it was Amicus because I had the feeling that a lion was inspecting my injuries, and if it wasn't my friend, I was most likely a dead man.

"Of course it's Amicus!" I silently scolded myself. "Don't you think another lion would have killed you by now?!"

Opening my eyes, I saw a dead rabbit inches away from my face. Needless to say, it startled me awake. I had nearly been half asleep, but now I was fully alert.

Everyone I had ever met had told me that animals cannot experience human emotions, but Amicus certainly seemed proud of himself when I finally sat up. One of us had obviously gained a new pet, but I couldn't tell if I was a human with a pet lion or if Amicus had just taken in a pet human. The way we had looked after each other, it was nearly impossible to be sure. I supposed it was the way of friends, helping each other without keeping track of who had done more kindnesses for the other.

"How's your paw?" I unwound the bandage. "It's healing nicely. In a day or two, it should be completely well."

He picked up the dead rabbit in his massive jaws, this time dropping it in my lap.

"_Estne mihi donum? Multas tibi gratias ago!_"

Amicus may not have understood Latin, but he seemed able to tell that I was delighted with the gift and was expressing my gratitude. He rubbed his head against me as a domestic cat would.

Sorting through the supplies I had managed to bring with me, I built a fire. Amicus had seen me do this many times, and although he never seemed to understand its purpose, he had never shown fear of the flames. I was thankful that he meant no harm, for he was the strong enough to bring down adult oxen and horses, cunning enough to learn to avoid every manner of trap set for him, and above all, fearful of nothing. Furthermore, he was coming into the prime of his life, not as naïve as a youth but certainly with the vigor of one.

As I skinned and cooked the rabbit, I was deeply moved. No one else had ever cared whether or not I had enough food, nor had anyone ever tried to ease the pain of my wounds after I had been beaten. My master's other slaves had always complained that no act of kindness was ever repaid, but after all the times I had shared my meal with Amicus, he had made a habit of bringing food to me, and now he had provided breakfast when I had nothing to offer him in return.

Staring at the bones in the corner, I was reminded of my terror the previous evening when I had realized I was in the same cave as the most ruthless lion in the area, the one who killed livestock in their prime rather than preying upon the weak, injured, elderly, or sick. How was this possible?! Even with an injured paw, Amicus had proven himself to be the most brutal of lions, yet he treated me graciously, as a host extends his warmest hospitality to his guest.

I knew then that I was safe. If the most vicious lion in North Africa had taken on the role of my protector, what could ever harm me?

"I hope you are never captured, my friend," I remarked, "not only for the sake of preserving your own life, but who could stand against you in the arena?"

Having finished my breakfast, I sorted through my supplies in an attempt to become more organized. There were a few tools that could be used to make snares for fish and game. When enough time had passed that I could be certain there were no members of the Fugitivarii in the area, I would be able to help Amicus hunt. The animal skins could be used as leather. I also had some linen that I had taken in case I ever needed to make a new tunic, and I had a somewhat firm mixture of fat, oils, ashes, and salts that I could use to wash my clothes.

The wilderness would provide plants to supplement my diet or be used for medicinal purposes if I was clever enough to learn to identify which were safe for other animals to eat, and there was certainly a source of fresh water nearby to quench my thirst. My entire life had been about doing as many tasks as possible in a hurry, but now my survival would depend on my ability to be still, silently observing animals without making the slightest motion that would frighten them.

How far into the wilderness was I? Surely I was still close enough to the nearest city that I could easily be discovered. Why had I not yet been found?

Slipping out only long enough to refill my canteen from the nearest stream, I remained in the cave until early in the evening. I hadn't heard any human voices or footsteps, and I wondered if I had truly evaded my master. With Amicus at my side, I cautiously began making my way along the very path which I had made the previous night. I feared that a soldier was hiding behind every bush, but I kept my eyes on Amicus. Lions have better senses of smell and hearing than humans, and he seemed at ease, so I knew I was in no danger.

After I had gone a short distance, I saw the prints of sandals in the dirt. Someone had followed the blatant trail I had left when I crawled through the woods. I could see where the tracks of my own bare feet had ended. However, there were also lion paw prints.

Realizing what had happened, my eyes began stinging as I was overcome with emotion. Although a wounded animal's instinct is to keep to itself, drawing away from all others, when Amicus had been out hunting the previous night, he had noticed my trail. Despite his own pain, he had limped after me, determined to make sure nothing harmed his human, ready to fight for my life if necessary. Even though I had resisted his help and had unintentionally caused him more suffering when I tended his paw, he had known I was injured, and he wouldn't have dreamt of leaving me alone until he was sure I would survive. Having cared for my wounds, he had left me in the safest place he knew, his own lair, and found food for me as he knew I was too weak to hunt for myself.

Dominus had noticed my absence and immediately hired soldiers or slave hunters, perhaps both, to find me, and they had nearly done so. However, when they saw the lion tracks where my footprints ended, noting that the rest of the trail looked as if something were being dragged through the woods, they had concluded that I had been killed, further convinced by the evidence of the bloodstained grass and the patches of cloth that had been torn from my tunic. Unwilling to track down a famished lion just to find the remains of its latest victim, they had simply returned to the city and informed my master that I was dead. Dominus would believe it easily enough. Believing anything was better than thinking a slave had outsmarted him.

"They expected you to kill me," I remarked to Amicus. "Instead, you have saved my life." He leaned into my hand as I stroked his mane from head to shoulder. "However, it would still be wise to remain cautious."

I had yearned so often to be a freedman, but now to maintain my liberty, I would have to become a lion. I would have to master my friend's gait, matching his stealthy yet powerful steps, if I was to learn how to avoid humans that wanted to capture me, how to prevent confrontations with lions that would gladly challenge my right to the meat I had killed or the land where I lived. I must quickly learn what other wild animals were in the area, which ones could be used for food or which would gladly use me for the same purpose. I would have to recognize every sound in the wilderness and know its meaning.

To be honest, I didn't mind being a lion. After all, Romulus and Remus had spent several years living as young wolves. Surely there was nothing wrong with living as an animal. It was certainly better than the way I had lived as a slave!

Now I was free to enjoy the beauty of the sunrise without dreading what chores lay ahead of me that day. I stood in awe of the myriads of stars each night without having sore muscles and joints from a recent beating. The occasional rainfall didn't bother me in the least, for the cave was snug and dry. I admired blossoms without worrying about whether or not they would grow into a type of plant that Dominus would force me to harvest.

I was also at liberty to say whatever I wished, for who would Amicus ever tell? I shared honest opinions with him about anything that crossed my mind, and I never sniveled or used terms of courtesy that I didn't mean.

On exceptionally hot days, Amicus and I would go swimming. The stream was free of crocodiles, hippopotami, or other dangerous creatures; however, leopards and other large mammals sometimes came to the water to drink. For this reason, I always allowed my friend to walk ahead of me. If other animals were there, he soon found them. I never saw him fight with another creature; his size and sheer ferocity were always enough to intimidate anything that crossed his path. Any animals that noticed his approach would always leave immediately, and those who were too slow would be chased away. This lion was the strongest among beasts, never turning away from any. As the jackals and striped hyenas learned whenever Amicus drew near, he alone was master of all creatures in this particular area of wilderness, and he was only too eager to prove it if necessary. Even other lions dared not oppose him.

Although many streams are shallow, the water came slightly over my waist when I stood in the center of this one. The current was too gentle to carry away anything heavier than a stout branch. It was the perfect place to learn how to swim, even though doing so was a bit of a challenge at first.

Lions swim reasonably well, although most prefer not to do so if they can avoid it. They aren't as strong of swimmers as certain other species of animals are, and they generally dislike water. However, as I have mentioned previously, Amicus feared nothing. He knew that even this stream was part of his realm, and he intended to treat it as such. As a result, any time I went swimming, he also plunged into the water.

We usually helped each other find fish and game, but sometimes Amicus would bring the carcasses of oxen, horses, and other livestock to the cave. I often wondered how many of these animals had belonged to my master's friends, but lions have no concept of owning property by paying for it, so Amicus had no idea that he had committed theft. Despite slight feelings of guilt, I was also somewhat amused that a former slave, now a fugitive, would be offered food that had been intended for a wealthy man's table.

In addition to meat, animals provided leather, which I used to make my first pair of sandals. I had not often been hired by cobblers, but I still remembered enough to make something to protect my feet from the thorns, scorpions, and other unpleasant items on the ground. My first attempts lasted only a few hours, but I became better with practice.

When mixed with ashes, salts, and oils, the fat of the animals made a substance ideal for keeping garments clean. Bones could be formed into weapons used for hunting, and horns could be used as drinking vessels when hollowed. The tails of some animals could be made into whisks to keep away insects. Fur might have been used as bedding, but Amicus personally saw to it that I had a pillow and blanket each night.

Most of the time, I was able to enjoy the benefit of good health. During the rare occasions when I was feeling poorly, I would gather the herbs I needed and rest for a few days. Amicus always seemed to sense when I was ill. He would rub his head against my shoulder or lick my hand as if trying to comfort me. All my ailments were nothing more than minor inconveniences; I always recovered within a week or sooner.

Although I sometimes got minor scrapes and bruises, as any human will do, I was thankful to have been spared from suffering any serious injuries. Just as he always did, Amicus did everything possible to make sure I was well. I once had the misfortune of spraining an ankle. Until I was able to walk without the slightest trace of a limp, my friend allowed me to lean against him every time I went to the stream for water. He remained in the cave most of the time, as if trying to make sure I wouldn't try to walk to the stream alone. In fact, he only hunted game when I was sleeping.

Wilderness survival wasn't nearly as difficult as I had feared. It was certainly a lot of work, and I had to keep my wits about me at all times, but no one ever demanded that I do a task against my will. I was never beaten for not working fast enough to please someone else. Above all, I had found the blessing of true friendship.

This was freedom. This was the happiness that so many people had died trying to obtain. Sometimes I felt guilty; many slaves had lost their lives being thrown to the lions for trying to gain this liberty, yet by meeting a lion, my own life had been preserved, and I lived in the freedom that others had died for without ever experiencing. However, I told myself that the best way to honor their memory was to make the most of my liberty.

The story of obtaining my freedom by gaining a friend would have ended perfectly if this were indeed the conclusion of my tale, but it seemed fate was still against me.

Fortune is glass; just when it gleams brightest, it shatters.


	12. Chapter 12

**VOLUMEN XII**

_ Graviora manent._

Even though Amicus and I were nearly inseparable, there were times when he would go off by himself. I never worried, for every creature is entitled to a few moments of solitude. However, when he left to go hunting one morning, he still had not returned by that afternoon.

I silently scolded myself for this senseless worrying. Amicus had been a part of the wilderness since the day of his birth, and he certainly knew the ways of other creatures far better than I could ever hope to learn. He was an intelligent lion, too clever to find himself in a situation he was unable to escape, for his ferocity was beyond compare.

As I prepared to sleep that evening, I found myself lying on solid rock, as I had done my first night in the cave. I was very upset with myself. Amicus had never failed me. He had taken me in as his own guest and provided food and companionship, and in return, I had abandoned him. I was a poor excuse for a friend, and if I had the slightest trace of kindness anywhere within my spirit, I would have begun searching for him hours ago. Surely I would have found him by now, and this nightmare would have ended.

I was unable to sleep at all. Amicus had found me in the cave. Would another wild animal, one not nearly as clement, find me as well? What lurked in the darkness, ready to devour a helpless fugitive?

It was barely light enough to see in the hours before dawn, but I had paced impatiently all night, pausing only long enough to make sure my fire blazed brightly enough to frighten any creatures unaccustomed to seeing flames. I could wait no longer. I was going to find my friend, and nothing was going to stop me.

"_Consiste!_"

Puzzled by the sound of a human voice other than my own, I obeyed the command to halt.

"_Qui ibi est?_" I asked, nearly afraid to know the identity of my unexpected visitor. "What are you doing near this cave?"

"We'll ask the questions!" the voice replied. "Who are you?"

"_Nomen mihi est Marcus_," I lied. "I have come out here to hunt."

I heard the distinctive sound of swords being drawn. Unless I was mistaken, the light of my fire had led the Fugitivarii right to me. What were they doing out here? Had they been trying to find another fugitive before they had seen my fire?

"Come out of that cave, Marcus!" the voice commanded. "We want to make sure you aren't a criminal!"

"I have done no wrong," I insisted. "I only wish to hunt game to serve at a banquet that I am to host in a few days."

Having no choice, I stepped out of the cave, wishing that the men standing before me had any other occupation, for I found myself facing a small group of Roman soldiers. I was unsure if they had been hired in addition to the Fugitivarii or if they were part of it, but I didn't suppose it mattered. Either way, they recognized me for who I truly was, the fugitive slave who had escaped…

How long ago had it been? It seemed as if I had only been staying with Amicus for a few weeks, but surely it had been much longer than that.

"I don't believe it!" one of the soldiers exclaimed.

"His hair and beard have grown as long and matted as a lion's mane," a second man remarked, "and his nails are more like claws! I guess he's been out here quite a while!"

"Show us your hands!" another demanded, seizing my wrist before I had time to comply. "Blood under the nails! You've been eating more of the game than you've been saving for your guests!" He adjusted the collar of my tunic. "What have we here?! Those scars would imply you've been beaten! If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were a fugitive, an escaped slave to be exact!"

"Your master leaves for Rome next week," the first soldier informed me. "Another few days, and you might have truly escaped with your liberty!"

This was too cruel. Why had I been given the chance to enjoy freedom and the companionship of a friend, only to be captured a week before I would never have had to worry about slavery again?

Defying Roman soldiers was one of the worst plans that anyone, regardless of social status or ethnicity, could ever have. Through the years, there have been countless stories of soldiers who were only too eager to demonstrate the barbarity of Rome when faced with any manner of opposition. However, one thought was becoming clearer than the stream where Amicus and I swam: No matter what happened, I would not allow myself to be enslaved again.

"I have no master," I stated. "My name is Marcus, and I am a freedman."

The first soldier sneered. "You're not fooling anyone! Your master and I have been friends for years, Androcles!"

Could this be true? Had Dominus learned my name, remembering it after all these years? How was it possible? My master had never referred to me as anything other than "slave." Then again, it shouldn't be surprising that he would know. After all, when he had hired me out for different trades, surely he had specified which slave he was offering for the day in exchange for the right amount of money.

"We know how to perform our duties for the good of Rome!" another soldier stated. "Had you minded your place as well, you would not face arrest!"

Aisopos had shared many philosophical theories about the true meaning of "the glory of man." Being captured, chained like a mad dog, and returned to a life of slavery had never been one of them.

My first instinct was to flee. I was no longer the wounded creature who had crawled helplessly through the wilderness. I was the man who had befriended the most ruthless lion in North Africa, living more comfortably in a cave than in the finest _domus_ or villa in the Roman Empire. Even without my somewhat crude sandals, I could run swiftly over the uneven ground without stumbling.

As soon as I was out of sight, I could easily find somewhere to hide. Living as a lion rather than a man, I had learned to skulk among the shadows, becoming one with darkness. Hiding myself in broad daylight would be more of a challenge, but it was not yet dawn. If it hadn't been for the fire I had built, these soldiers most likely would never have noticed me.

I might have guessed they would set up an ambush. No sooner had I begun running than two soldiers stepped in front of me, seizing my arms between elbow and shoulder. I writhed out of their grasp, but I felt another soldier place his sword to my back.

"_Ferrum meum sangui tuo ieiunum est!_" he warned. "Since my sword is so bloodthirsty, if you make so much as one more move, you die where you stand!"

"Then kill me where I stand!" I retorted. "It's better than living on my knees!"

Seeing the shackles they carried, I began to fight for my freedom, and quite possibly for my life. Casting aside what may have been the last traces of my humanity, I clawed and bit my attackers, feeling neither fear of their weapons nor shame for my actions when I realized I had drawn blood. Using any means necessary, I would defend the recent liberty I had gained. Never again would I allow any man to be my master.

There were too many of them. This was a group of highly trained Roman soldiers, and I was only one man, fighting as a captured lion. My most valiant efforts proved in vain.

Even when the shackles were tightened around my wrists, I continued to struggle. They attempted to fetter me, but I refused to stand still. Seizing me, the soldiers forced me to the ground, pinning me at the shoulders and calves. The fetters bit into my ankles, making it nearly impossible to move my feet. Much against my will, the soldiers helped me rise, and we began what would most likely be the final journey of my life.

Now I was nearly helpless. I could neither run nor use my arms to fight. With a soldier holding each arm, attempting to escape would be useless; I would easily be recaptured before I had fully managed to wriggle from their grasp. Even before they had removed my sandals, I already knew walking would prove to be difficult. I had never harmed anyone; I had only claimed the freedom that had haunted my dreams so often, yet I was being treated as a _sceleratus_.

"What do you have to say for yourself?!" demanded the soldier who had informed me that he was friends with my master.

"Thank you for the gift of your finest ox," I responded. "It was one of the most delicious meals I've ever eaten."

He glared. "_Dabis improbe poenas!_" Before I could ask what sort of punishment he had in mind, he informed me, "Your theft will cost you ten stripes!"

"Then I have already paid for the crime, for the scars on my back show I have already received a far greater number of stripes during the time I have served my master, but I have not stolen from you. Does a mere slave have the strength to carry away an ox? I simply found its carcass in the forest. Moreover, is it not for my master to say whether or not I will be beaten? If anyone else flogs me, shouldn't I be properly sentenced by the authorities first?"

"I am the authority!" my master's friend answered.

"Why should you waste time sentencing a slave? Will beating me restore your ox to life?"

Crossing his arms, he continued glaring. "You have committed a crime, and now you must be punished, as much for your insolence as for the deed itself!"

A wiser man would have held his tongue, but Aisopos always claimed that a man becomes like the friends he chooses, and I had indeed begun to act a bit like Amicus. His fighting spirit had been defiant in the face of the most ruthless opposition.

"Very well, sir." I lowered my eyes respectfully. "I am prepared to pay. You say this will cost me ten stripes, so if it pleases my master's friend to turn around, I shall gladly administer them. Furthermore, if my own friend were here, he would leave you with stripes from which you would never recover!"

He recoiled as if he had trod upon a scorpion. As soon as the words left my lips, I knew I should have held my peace. A slave's words are never considered to be sufficient testimony, so what would there have been to lose by keeping my remarks to myself? There was nothing to be done now but hope the worst would be over quickly. Why had I even mentioned the ox?!

I began counting the number of strokes. Aisopos had once compared the glory of man to a wounded lion, and I was certainly behaving more leonine than human as I received my wounds. Was this the glory of man, to be beaten in the wilderness before he was returned to slavery?

I reminded myself that this would be the last time I would ever feel the lash…_octo, novem, decem._ That was ten. I had received my full punishment, yet I was still being beaten. Was I to be flayed until I was nearly dead, only to be abandoned in the wilderness with the chains left around my wrists and ankles to ensure I would be unable to move and thus had no chance of survival?

After twenty-five lashes, my sentence had finally been served. I was exhausted from the effort of struggling against my captors, the weight of my chains, and the pain of being flogged. Amicus still would have been able to attempt escape after all this, but he also weighed well over three times more than I did.

"Suppose you never found me," I suggested. "Could you not tell my master that you still haven't found out where I've been hiding or that I was already dead by the time you located me? I think he believes that I was killed by a lion, so you could just tell him you saw my bones, and…"

"We'd lose our commissions!" one soldier answered. "Besides, now that we know that you haven't died out here, we have to bring you back alive or face our own deaths!"

"A horrible fate for true citizens of Rome," I muttered.

The soldier laughed. "_Furcifer!_ Do you think you look like a citizen, with your matted hair and your nails that grow like talons?!"

"I think I look like a freedman."

"More like a lion!" he taunted.

"Better a free lion than an enslaved man." After a pause, I asked, "What horrible crime have I committed that would cause Roman soldiers to risk so much to capture me? Am I a murderer?"

"You are a thief!" my master's friend reminded me. "You have stolen not only yourself from your master, but since you have not been at his home to work for him, you have also stolen the money he could have made by allowing other people to hire you for the day, not to mention the original price he paid to buy you!"

That wasn't all I had stolen from my master. He had once had a cow that gave him an abundance of milk and strong, healthy calves. Dominus had favored this cow, for she was the color of a silver coin, and one of her calves had beautiful golden fur. Everyone in North Africa had complimented the cow, although I was never sure why my master couldn't have left her in Rome, and her beauty had not gone unnoticed by Amicus. I had used the leather pouch to carry the herbs I gathered for medicinal purposes or simply to season my food. Dominus would have been furious if he had known.

"Just wait until your master sees you!" exclaimed one of my captors. "I can only imagine what he has planned for you!"

"I am not afraid," I answered. "It is you who are fearful. Otherwise, you would not have chained or beaten me. Who among you would dare challenge me to a fair fight?"

He sneered at me. "If it's a fight you want, then you should consider yourself most fortunate, for it's a fight you shall have!"

I started to reply, but he ordered me to keep silent.

When I was brought before Dominus, he was trembling with rage. His face was dangerously pale. Never had one of his slaves eluded him for so long. No doubt he had truly believed that I had perished the night I ran away.

For several seconds, his lips moved, but most of his words were inaudible. I thought I overheard him mention "_verbero_," but I wasn't sure. I hoped I was wrong, for any word associated with "_verberare_" made me shudder. Hadn't I already been beaten enough?

"They informed me that you were found in a cave not far from here," he began in a much quieter voice than he typically used. "I believed you to be miles away. Why were you hiding less than a day's walk from the city?"

I had to protect Amicus. If he was still alive and free, I would not put him in danger by admitting that I knew where to find the lion that everyone in the empire wanted to capture for the arena. I owed him my life, so I would do everything within my power to protect his.

"I hid much farther away at first," I lied, "but I could no longer remain in the wilderness, for I missed human companionship, so I began sneaking to the city at night and stealing from the market."

As soon as I had finished speaking, I nearly shuddered. Slaves found guilty of theft were branded on their foreheads. If Amicus was dead, then the risk I took to protect him had been in vain.

Nearly too furious to speak, Dominus immediately condemned me to even more chains than the ones I already wore. Hindered by the weight of the fetters around my ankles, I had no choice but to remain absolutely still. The chains around my waist dug into my ribs with every breath, and my arms soon grew weary from the shackles around my wrists. My muscles ached dreadfully from my inability to move, and the chains abraded and bruised my skin.

"The only thing that keeps me from salting the stripes on your back," Dominus began, "is the price of salt at the market! You aren't worth it!"

After all the money I had earned for him during the time I had been his slave, I wasn't even worth a few sprinkles of salt. Ordinarily, I would have felt insulted, but circumstances being as they were, I was grateful for his miserly spirit.

I wondered what my master would do with me. Would he have me crushed to death, or would he be content to break my bones, brand me, or cut off my hand, ear, nose, or foot? I had known him to gouge out the eyes of other slaves who displeased him. I hoped he wouldn't sentence me to crucifixion, a common form of capital punishment among slaves, but I doubted he would be merciful enough simply to send me back to the villa to tend his fields and vineyards.

He hardly spoke to me at all during our voyage from North Africa to Rome. I was given barely enough food to keep me alive, but I was thankful that I hadn't been sent to the galley. Apparently, Dominus still thought I was useful in some way. If I was still of some value in his eyes, of too much worth to be sold, then I would likely survive whatever punishment he had in mind for me as soon as we returned to Rome.

Worst of all was finding out that my master had recently acquired a lion skin. Without Amicus, I would have died in the wilderness, but he had been found and killed by people who had once been searching for me. As if this guilt wasn't anguishing enough, I had to see his skin used by Dominus, the man who had been the cause of enough misery to convince me to run away. I had indirectly murdered my only friend.

Each time I saw the lion pelt, my eyes would sting dreadfully, and I could feel my throat tighten until I could barely breathe. I wanted nothing more than to stroke the fur a final time or fall asleep beside it. Above all, I wanted to ask it to forgive me.

"_Tu amicus solus meus eras_," I would murmur each time I saw the pelt of the only friend I'd ever had.

The day we arrived in Rome was the eve of a public holiday. Dominus locked me in a room by myself, but other slaves guarded the door, even though I was still kept in chains. After several hours, my master opened the door long enough to announce that I was no longer his problem.

"You'll have a special event to celebrate tomorrow's festivities!" he concluded. "_Optima felicitatis!_ You're certainly going to need it!"

Greater dangers await.


	13. Chapter 13

**VOLUMEN XIII**

_Forsan miseros meliora sequentur._

Later that night, a few of my master's favorite slaves entered the room where I was being held prisoner. They began cutting my hair and nails, shaving my beard until my face was as smooth as the palms of my hands.

"Why do you do this?" I asked.

"Because the master has commanded it," one answered impatiently.

"But why?"

"He says he wants to be sure which one is the lion!" a second slave informed me.

With that, he left the room with the others. It took a few moments for me to realize what he had meant; then I suddenly understood.

My first reaction was to panic. I desperately searched for a means of escape, but the chains greatly restricted my movement. My second thought was to kill myself. If I was going to die anyway, there had to be some way less painful than what I faced the following day.

I overheard someone arguing with my master, "…and if you wanted your slave to be executed tomorrow, you should have told us in advance!"

"Keep him imprisoned in one of the animal cages beneath the arena for all I care!" Dominus exclaimed. "Surely you can make room somewhere!"

"Furthermore, your other request is highly irregular!" the other voice argued. "Money can't buy everything!"

"I believe I have enough of it to change your mind!"

There was a sigh, followed by the sound of coins clinking together.

"How will I know which one is your slave?" the other man asked. "Does he have any distinguishing marks?"

"You may see him for yourself."

Dominus opened the door of the room where he had imprisoned me, and the guest began scrutinizing my face. He seemed displeased.

Crossing his arms, the visitor demanded, "Has he attempted to murder you?! This is nothing more than a common slave! Why should you take such great pains for one not even worthy to loosen the straps of your sandals?!"

"I allowed him to be educated and work for men of various trades," my master began. "Instead of the endless toil of tending fields at the villa, I gave him the honor of serving me as a personal slave in Rome, North Africa, or wherever else it would have pleased me to go, and he has repaid me by running away! Have you ever seen such ingratitude?! Furthermore, when he was recaptured, he spat at my feet! If I don't make an example of him, my other slaves will rebel, and every slave in Rome shall follow their example! This slave could be the next Spartacus!"

The visitor seemed skeptical. "_Itane?_" After a long pause, he rolled his eyes. "What did you have in mind?"

"Let him face the most fearsome creature in the arena!"

"Other than yourself?"

Dominus did not seem at all amused by his guest's reply, but I nearly laughed under my breath, despite the peril I faced.

"At first, I thought to have him face the most vicious animal," he explained, "but then it occurred to me that such a beast would kill him too quickly! His misery would end before I had a chance to relish it! I considered having him fight a more temperate creature, one that would prolong his execution, but the attack wouldn't be nearly as savage!" My master sighed. "I hardly know what to do. He must endure great anguish, but the brutality must not end his torment before I tire of watching!"

The visitor rolled his eyes.

"Remember," my master instructed, "I don't want him to be thrown in with other criminals, or I might miss the exact moment when he dies, and I don't want him facing more than one wild animal, or I won't be able to see which one kills him. He is to be alone in the arena with the cruelest beast there."

He turned to me. "When you were brought back to me, your captors informed me that you had been behaving as a lion! You'll soon find out what we do to lions in Rome!" He gestured to the lion pelt he had acquired in North Africa. "Let's see how much fighting spirit you have when pitted against a larger beast!"

Against my will, I was led to the arena and placed in a cell, where I would await my execution to be held the following morning. I had failed my life's only ambition: to die as a freedman rather than live as a slave. I would never embrace my wife or kiss my infant son or daughter.

"_Cur hoc me evenit?_" I wondered. "Why has this happened just when I had found happiness in life, albeit in the wilderness?"

The next moment, I was silently scolding myself for my self-pity. "Myriads of other slaves have died in the arena! Why should I be any different? I knew the penalty for running away, but I chose to break the law! The fact that it was merely to ease the suffering in my life is irrelevant! A man who knows the law and breaks it must face his punishment without making excuses!"

It was a long night. How do you make peace with your death and calmly accept your fate when you know you're to be ripped to shreds? If I had known that I would simply stop breathing at midnight, I would have welcomed my demise without fear, for I had experienced happiness and freedom in my life. Now that I had truly lived, I was no longer afraid to die.

However, I was extremely fearful of being devoured. I had once seen another slave executed in the same way I was to be killed on the following day. After all this time, I could still hear his screams amid the shouts of the crowd. Furthermore, I had watched Amicus hunt large prey, leaping upon the other creature's back to bring it down so he could bite the throat or clamp his jaws over the victim's mouth and nose to suffocate it. Any resistance was met by paws strong enough to break bones with just one swipe.

Would it even be a lion that killed me, or would I be trampled by an elephant? Would I be gored by the tusks of a wild boar, or would I be mauled to death by a bear?

Sleepless, I attempted to calm myself. Would claws honestly hurt any more than the scourge had? Even if broken bones were more painful than stiff joints and muscles, surely I wouldn't have too long to writhe in agony before my soul departed from my body.

Why hadn't I thought about my soul?! What happened to a fugitive Greek slave of a Roman master when he died? Would I be judged by Minos, Rhadamanthos, and Aeacus before being sent to the Elysian Fields? No, that was highly unlikely; only warriors, heroes, or other exceptional individuals went there. I was a criminal. I'd be fortunate if I were allowed to go to the Asphodel Plain, but Tartarus seemed more likely.

I reminded myself that Tartarus wasn't eternal punishment; I would be there only until the gods were appeased. When they believed I had suffered enough for my crime, they would release me to the Asphodel Plain, which was apparently rather bleak, but anything was better than being tortured.

The thought occurred to me that perhaps I had already served part of my sentence. Would my time spent serving Kurios and Dominus as an obedient slave be considered enough punishment that perhaps I could avoid Tartarus entirely?

Would my body even receive a proper burial? If not, would I be a wandering spirit forever? If I wasn't buried with a coin, would I ever be able to pay Charon for passage across the Styx?

What of the Egyptian belief that a person's heart was weighed after death before entering the Field of Reeds? If the Egyptians were right, what would happen if my heart was too heavy and was fed to Ammut? Would I simply cease to exist?

"_Vastus animus!_" I silently upbraided myself for my foolishness. "I ought to have considered this throughout my lifetime rather than waiting until the day before my execution! What good would it have been even if I had gained the entire world if it meant losing my soul?!"

Did any of the gods understand what it was like to be condemned to a cruel death? Was there a merciful god who would understand why I had tried to escape, someone who would grant me in death the peace I had never had in life? There had to be. Someone had surely helped me survive my scourging the night I ran away from Dominus, not to mention granting me time in the wilderness to live in freedom with Amicus. I remembered that as I was escaping from my master, my wounds had caused me to lose strength, and I had prayed to be able to reach the cave where my friend lived, even though I hadn't known at the time that it was his home, and this request had been granted.

"I place my soul in the hands of whichever god allowed me to meet Amicus," I prayed. "It is that god only that I will serve for the rest of my life, however short it may be, for none of the other gods ever heard me. May my death count as enough punishment for what I have done, that my spirit may be judged fairly in the world to come. I give thanks that I have been allowed to experience freedom and understand true friendship before the end of my life. Please grant that I will not suffer too much pain tomorrow and that I will finally be at peace."

I was still terrified at the thought of how I would die, but I would finally be free. This time there would be no chance that I could be recaptured. I would never again be forced to call anyone my master, nor would I ever be beaten. I only wished there had been more time to learn about this god who had shown me so many undeserved kindnesses.

Throughout the night, I could hear the roaring of animals in their enclosures. I wondered which one would both cause and end my torment. Would I be killed by having my neck broken, or would I be shredded by merciless claws? Would I even see which animal was released from the gate before it had the chance to kill me?

Surely it would all be over in a short amount of time, possibly a few moments, however it happened. That being, what difference would it make?

I considered my life, asking myself what I would have done differently if I had the chance. First of all, I would have run away from Kurios. He certainly would have punished me if I had been caught, but unlike Dominus, he would have allowed me to live. If I had successfully escaped from Kurios, then I would never have met Dominus.

Second, if I had still become a Roman slave for some reason, I would have run away sooner. This nightmare could have been over years ago. I could already be at rest.

Most of all, if my life of slavery had still continued long enough to flee from Dominus in North Africa, I would have begun my search for Amicus sooner. If I had only done so, he would never have been killed, and I would be spending this evening in freedom, sleeping beside a lion, rather than being a convicted criminal in chains, condemned to fall asleep the final time tomorrow morning, quite possibly beside a different lion.

To my horror, I overheard one of the guards remark that the sky, which was not at all visible from my underground cell, had previously been dark as ebony, but now it was beginning to turn a shade of light gray, and flecks of colored light were appearing on the horizon as the sun rose. I knew it wouldn't be too much longer now.

What was beyond that sky? Was there a world where slaves were treated the same way as citizens, and everyone lived in peace, free from all the troubles of the world where I now lived? Would Theokleia be there? Since we had nearly become friends before her death, would I see her again tomorrow?

For those in misery, better things will follow.


	14. Chapter 14

**VOLUMEN XIV**

_Aeternum valete._

From my cell, I could hear everything. I shuddered each time I heard the sounds of wounded animals, dying men, and cheering spectators. When the first noise stopped but the growls continued, I knew that the fights had ended and the executions had begun. I never wanted to hear another snarl, roar, or anything else that would imply that someone had been killed by a dangerous animal.

Above all else, I didn't want to hear the dreaded words: "_Tu es_ _proximus!_" To be honest, I wouldn't have minded at all if my turn had never come. However, there was no escaping the inevitable.

When my chains were finally removed, I could still see the markings of where they had been. A placard explaining my crime was placed around my neck, much against my will.

"We have something special for you!" my jailer informed me, showing me deep gashes on his arm as he handed me a lance. "Your master wanted you devoured by the fiercest of all beasts, and we've got a lion so ruthless that even its cage can barely keep the rest of us safe! He's already killed over a dozen men, not to mention other animals, but he seems to prefer taking his time putting them out of their misery! He bats them around until he tires of the game before he finally goes in for the kill! I thought surely he would have eaten his fill by now, but since he only swallows a few mouthfuls of his victims before refusing to eat the rest, he's still famished! Perhaps he will prefer the taste of a Greek dish!"

I had intended to walk into the arena bravely, but my knees were shaking so badly that I could barely stand. When I was seized and thrown through the gate, I landed on my hands and knees. Hardly able to rise, I began my lap around the arena so the thousands of jeering spectators would know why I was being executed.

The humiliation was awful. The tiers of seats rose so high that I felt as if I was nothing but a speck of dust as so many people looked down on me. I stood powerless before them.

"Good luck with the lion!" someone taunted cruelly.

I was sickened. None of these people knew my name or what I had been through in my life, but they were eager to watch me die for the sake of their amusement! I had never believed in such a thing as human kindness, but I felt my disgust growing stronger than usual.

"Make haste, slave!" another person shouted above the crowd. "It's a slave's job to feed livestock, and that lion's getting hungry!"

My master sat in his usual seat, surrounded by his other slaves. Just as I had once been forced to watch the execution of a slave who had escaped Dominus, now the others would watch my demise. Unlike the other slave, I had no friends among them, no one who would weep for me or speak kindly of my memory after the lion had finished setting me free.

I wondered who had taken my place as the slave that made the most money for Dominus, not that it mattered anymore. One thought cheered me as I looked at his stern face: He was no longer my master. No matter what happened to me now, there was nothing he could do about it. I was finally my own master, just as I had always yearned to be.

In one way, I wished the lap around the arena was shorter, for I could hardly bear all these looks of scorn, but in another way, I wished I had been required to circle the entire city of Rome, for I knew that as soon as my lap had been completed, the lion would be released. By the time I had walked the complete circle, I could feel my heart racing more swiftly than even the fastest chariots. I had always assumed that a fluttering heart and feelings of dizziness or slight nausea were signs of being in love with a beautiful woman, but it appeared these were merely reactions to impending doom.

Why had I never had the chance to fall in love? Surely I was capable of love, for I knew how to feel friendship. I had often wondered what it would be like to embrace my wife, but I knew now that it was never meant to be. I'd never even held a woman, except for the brief moment I had taken Theokleia's hand as she had slipped into the next world.

No one was here to comfort me during my final moments. I would have been grateful for a sympathetic look, even if having a friend grip my shoulder was too much to ask.

Even though no human cared what happened to me, I wondered if the god to whom I had committed the rest of my life was looking down on me now. I wished there had been more time to learn about this deity. Which god had actually cared about a slave enough to bless him with a friend, and would this god take the soul of this slave to his kingdom?

Part of me hoped there would be an unexpected delay, but another part wished the lion was already mauling me. Although I wasn't looking forward to the agony of being killed, I was eager for it all to be over.

Judging from the way it roared, the lion couldn't understand why the gate hadn't opened yet. After all the time I had spent with Amicus, I recognized that each sound a lion made had a different meaning, and this roar was the kind a lion only used when preparing for a fight to the finish. There would be no survivors, nor would there be any mercy. He would either vanquish his foe or lose his own life, but he would not surrender. This was the roar of anger, a sound that could only be described as the burning cruelty of the most malicious form of pure hatred.

I understood. He had been beaten, starved, and imprisoned, yet he had borne his suffering far more courageously than I ever had. No matter how many strokes he received, the pain only made him fight back with more ferocity. Although I feared this lion, I also admired his tenacity, for lashes had only weakened me in both body and spirit. As I had awaited my slaughter, I had heard the crack of the whip, followed by a low growl that turned into a thunderous roar, the sound that indicated that a lion was ready to attack. Judging from the screams that had ensued before the door of the cage was finally slammed shut, the lion had defended himself against his oppressor.

"He's too dangerous!" one man exclaimed. "We have to finish him off now!"

"Not at all!" a second argued. "Someone's going to give us each an aureus if we make sure the slave suffers, and this lion will serve the purpose well!"

At the time, I had wondered which slave they meant. Now I knew.

"I thought we weren't supposed to feed the lion!" a third man had remarked. "If he's starving, he'll be more ruthless!"

"We're not!" the first replied.

"Then what's he eating?"

Listening carefully, I could hear the distinct sound of bones crunching.

The second man gasped. "Gaius!"

I heard the sound of footsteps approaching the three men.

"My hand!" a fourth voice quavered. "He bit it off at the wrist!"

"We'll have to sear it to keep you from losing too much blood," the first man had informed Gaius. "We can use the hot irons."

"The same ones we use to ensure the animals fight in the arena?!" Gaius asked in disbelief. "The insult is too much to bear, Appius!"

"It's the only way to save your life!"

Gaius sighed in disgust. "Has the creature attacked you yet?"

"_Age negotium tuum!_" Appius commanded.

I would now face this same lion. He blamed the human race in general for his mistreatment, and he was only too eager for any opportunity to demonstrate his wrath. I remembered how Aisopos, the wisest man in the city where I had lived in Greece, had often said bitterness was like a thorn; if not removed while still only a minor irritation, it would inflame until the trouble affected one's entire life. How ironic that I now faced a lion with a metaphorical thorn after I had once helped a different lion with a real one!

Aisopos had also said that when a man's life is in danger, events that happen rapidly seem to be slower to him because his brain works faster. This occurs because his mind is trying to help him think of a way to save his life in a short amount of time. It appeared that Aisopos was correct, for the worst moments of my life seemed to take an hour.

The guards removed the sign that had been placed around my neck to explain my crime, claiming that my master had insisted that nothing hinder the lion from my throat. Even though I had been given a lance before taking my lap around the arena, my weapon was now taken away. Apparently, this had been another way for Dominus to mock me.

"He said your fighting spirit should be enough to defeat the lion!" one of the guards jeered. "Don't take it to heart. The lion would have won anyway!"

I was left alone in the arena. One of the gates opened, and I knew I had only a few moments left to live, each one no longer than the amount of time it took me to draw a single, rapid breath. At first the lion was only a blur; he started from such a great distance away and ran so quickly. I looked away, unable to face my approaching murderer.

I stepped away from the wall. Maybe I couldn't save myself, but I wasn't going to die cornered or trapped. I was determined to have some amount of dignity.

Three more breaths.

In one way, I wished for more time, but in another way, I felt as if these were three hours rather than fleeting moments. My thoughts came more rapidly than ever before.

When confronted by a lion, it was advisable to back away slowly, using a clear but firm voice. If that didn't work, one should attempt to make oneself look larger by raising the arms; however, sudden movements should be avoided. I didn't see how any of that would help me now.

Although I was trembling all over, I wouldn't allow myself to die on my knees. I couldn't. Kneeling was for slaves. I would die on my feet. Dominus was watching, and I wouldn't give him the pleasure of seeing me cower.

Only two breaths left.

Did no one in this crowd care what was about to happen to me?! Didn't anyone think that the reason I had run away from my master was because I was tired of being upbraided and beaten?! Wouldn't any of them have done the same in my place?! Why was it that the slave who risked his life to escape was the one being punished?! Shouldn't the master who treated his slaves worse than animals be the one getting fed to the lion?!

How could Dominus believe that Vesta, goddess of the hearth, was pleased with his life? Like many people, he fully accepted the idea that there was nothing wrong about a master mistreating his slaves. The gods didn't care. All that mattered was that slaves obediently served their masters. It wasn't as if slaves were human beings with thoughts and feelings, so their lives were irrelevant when it came to having a cheerful home. Surely Libertas would have a few protests!

Pushing aside thoughts of what my former master believed, I looked to the sky, softly murmuring my final prayer: "_Domine me iuva! Caelum mei miserere!_"

My final moment of life.

There was a dark tan blur before my eyes, and I felt a heavy weight pressing down on each of my shoulders. I was lying on my back as the crowd cheered excitedly. Unable to face my executioner, I turned my head and closed my eyes. Even though the lion had not yet applied enough force to break my bones, I knew it wouldn't be much longer. Bending my knee, I pushed against the ground with my foot, trying to scoot away from the lion, but I was hardly strong enough to break free of the crushing weight that pinned my chest and shoulders to the ground.

"_Non me amabo te interfice!_" I pleaded, even though I knew it was useless to beg the lion to spare my life.

He roared savagely. As I have mentioned previously, life with Amicus had taught me the meanings of different roars, and I recognized this as the sound of a lion defending what belonged only to him. My friend had often roared in this manner when jackals or other creatures tried to steal his meat. I would not die a freedman; I was blatantly this lion's property. He had made it clear that he alone had the right to devour me, and no one, human or animal, would take me away from him.

Feeling a rough tongue near my throat, I realized that any resistance would be futile. I stopped struggling, and after only a few more breaths, the worst was finally over. Now I felt peace, for I was truly free. Life as I knew it had ceased to exist.

Farewell forever.


	15. Chapter 15

**VOLUMEN XV**

_Civis Romanus sum._

To my surprise, my execution hadn't been nearly as horrific as I had expected. When I had fallen on my back, I had gotten some slight bruises, but I hadn't been seriously injured. Although I had expected excruciation, there had been no pain at all. I had felt nothing except a few licks to my face and hands, followed by gentle nudges to my ribs as the weight left my shoulders.

Gentle nudges? This wasn't Tartarus! Judging from how hot and dusty it was, this wasn't any place of eternal rest either. Where was I?

I heard a noise that I recognized as being the sound of a concerned lion. Amicus had made it many times whenever he was worried about me, such as when he could sense that I wasn't feeling well. More confused than ever, I opened my eyes and turned to face the lion that had…

_Pro divum fidem! _

"But how…?!" Sitting up, I threw my arms around my friend, trying to speak to him, but unable to finish any of my statements. "I thought you were…! Who was that other lion, the one that Dominus…? You've killed other men. You actually ate one man's hand, yet you still…! Out of all the lions in the arena, how was I fortunate enough to…?!" I knelt, running my hand down his mane, just as many people stroke the heads of their dogs. "_Valesne?_ Did anyone harm you? I know they tried!"

Rubbing his head against me as domestic cats often do to humans, Amicus put a paw on my back as if returning my embrace. I could hardly believe what was happening, not only that I had been spared from a brutal death, but also that my only friend was alive, and I had the chance to see him again. I barely noticed that the crowd had fallen silent except for a few slight murmurs.

The emperor voiced aloud what nearly everyone must have been thinking: "_Quis ille servus qui leones domare potest?!_"

Amicus had a few minor nicks, but he seemed to have escaped serious injury from all previous confrontations. How wonderful it was to see my friend alive and well!

"_Bonum est te denuo videre!_" I smiled up at him.

Seeing that there had been no answer to his rhetorical question, the emperor addressed me. "Slave! Who are you, and how can you tame lions?!"

I could hardly believe that I would have the chance to speak to the emperor himself. How many citizens of Rome, let alone any slaves, ever had the chance to do so? More specifically, I would have to shout to him, for although the crowd maintained a respectful silence, it was a bit difficult for us to hear each other due to the distance between us and the noises of the animals in their cages. I was surprised the emperor didn't command that I be brought before him to simplify the matter, but if he wished for me to answer him before the other spectators, who was I to dispute his will? I hid a smile as I wondered how many slaves ever shouted at the emperor without facing severe punishment.

Rising to my feet, I placed a hand on my friend's shoulder and bowed graciously before explaining, "I am a thief, for I have stolen my master's property: myself. I have always tried to be a hardworking and obedient slave, but when I lived in Africa with my master, there came a time when I could bear his cruelty no longer, so I fled into the wilderness. No man has ever treated me as well as he treats his sandals, yet this lion allowed me to stay in his own home and brought me food as if I were his honored guest, and we are as brothers. No man has ever appreciated the endless chores I have done, yet this lion has repaid even my smallest acts of kindness, removing a thorn from my side as I once removed one from his paw. Thousands of people have gathered here to watch me die, yet you see for yourself how this lion has saved my life."

Perhaps I had spoken too soon. Even before I had finished my speech, I heard the ferocious growling of other beasts. No doubt the crowd would gladly have seen another animal kill us both, but Amicus answered the other creatures with a few deafening roars of his own, pacing as he stared at the gates where they would exit, always keeping himself between them and me. He wasn't about to let anyone else kill _his_ human! When the other animals finally became silent, Amicus sat at my feet like a dog, looking up as if to reassure me that I was in no danger as long as he was here.

"_Gratias, mi amice_." I stroked his mane from head to shoulder.

"Unbelievable!" one person in the crowd remarked.

"It's a sign from the gods!" exclaimed another.

Although I had recently changed my ideas about religion, I didn't care who these people believed had sent them a sign, as long as that particular sign pointed to somewhere out of the arena.

"_Vive et liber este!_" someone shouted.

"Yes!" another voice agreed. "Live and go free!"

"_Vive et libertus este!_" a third person interjected. "Be a freedman!"

The same throng that only moments ago had cheered in anticipation of my death now shouted for my liberty. One of the first words I had learned in Latin was _manumittere_, and I had thought there were few words, if any, that could be sweeter, but would I experience it now?

Rising from his seat, the emperor raised his hands for silence. "Is there any man here who will not obey the gods?" He looked down at me. "I hereby sentence you to death!"

I was stunned. Would the emperor himself disregard a sign from the deities his people worshipped?

"More specifically," he continued, "it will be the slowest of all forms of death!"

Rome seemed to pride itself on the barbarity of executions. I shuddered to think what the emperor had in mind.

"I say you shall die of old age! I pardon you for having run away from your master."

Bowing again, I thanked the emperor and turned to leave with Amicus.

"Not so fast!" he ordered.

Stopping where I was, I respectfully turned to face him, lowering my head in deference.

"Is this slave's master here?!" the emperor demanded of the crowd.

Dominus stood, enraged and bemused that I had survived my execution. "I am his master!"

"_Nunc hic veni!_"

My master was clearly not accustomed to following orders from anyone, especially not in public, but even he would never dare disobey the emperor. That being, he approached without delay, just as he had been commanded. Forgive me, but I enjoyed watching him have to obey an order.

The emperor dismissed a few of his attendants and began talking quietly with my master. I couldn't hear what they were saying, but Dominus didn't seem to care for it. His face was as many colors as a garden in summer, especially shades of white, purple, and red. He was clearly furious, yet there was a trace of disbelief, perhaps with a hint of humiliation. I had the feeling that the emperor had told him something unpleasant, and Dominus would rather die than have anything to do with it.

My eyes must have been deceiving me. Where was the emperor's toga? He had been wearing it when I had first begun speaking with him, yet now he sat in only his tunic. Why was he not wearing his purple toga with gold embroidery since this was a public holiday?

The attendants returned with a small basin, a pitcher of water, and a cloth. Did the emperor plan to wash his hands to demonstrate that he no longer had anything to do with me? Was he going to spare my life but grant Dominus control over it?

My master was handed a large bundle made of wool that had been dyed purple. There was something green on top of it, but I couldn't see what. Bowing to the emperor, he made his way to where I stood, followed by the attendants, who still carried the other items.

Amicus kept himself between me and those who were approaching. He wouldn't attack unless they gave him a reason to fight, but he was wary of anyone who seemed as if they might harm me.

"Would you please step forward?" Dominus asked in a courteous tone, trying unsuccessfully to conceal the fact that he spoke as if the words blistered his tongue.

I hardly knew what to expect. Never before had I heard him make a polite request of anyone, let alone a slave. Even Amicus seemed confused. Unsure of what to do, I tentatively obliged. My friend allowed me to advance, but he insisted on standing beside me, his eyes never leaving Dominus.

One of the emperor's attendants poured water from the pitcher into the basin while another handed my master the small cloth. He set down the bundle of wool and dipped the cloth into the basin, carefully wringing the excess water out of it. Judging from his facial expression, he would rather have slit his own throat, but he made no audible complaint.

"If he had known this would happen," Dominus explained, "the emperor would have prepared a proper ceremony, and you would have spent the morning in the bathhouse rather than your cell. However, since this turn of events was unexpected, he says this is the best he can do on short notice."

Before I could ask what he meant, my master began cleaning my face with the cloth. I thought I heard him mutter something under his breath about "_Acherontis_ _pabulum_," but I wasn't sure if he was referring to me or himself. Surely he hadn't been referring to the emperor!

"Is this necessary?" I asked. "If it pleases the emperor, I can wash my own face."

"He insisted that I do it."

His tone was unintentionally curt, so I refrained from questioning him further as he lifted my wrist and began washing my hand. Why was he behaving courteously when he would much rather have seen Amicus change his mind and slaughter me mercilessly? What did any of this have to do with the emperor's decree that I was pardoned?

When he had finished cleaning my other hand, Dominus stooped and began loosening his sandals. I would gladly have offered to do so for him, but his mood seemed to be worsening, so I held my peace. Standing barefoot in the arena, my master took the basin of water and knelt before me. Without a word, he reached for my ankle.

At first, I was too stunned to speak. Why would the emperor order a master to wash his slave's feet, especially in public?! I couldn't imagine anything more humiliating for Dominus, not that I was comfortable with the situation either, for it wasn't in my nature to debase another human being.

"There is no need," I told him gently. "I don't care to see anyone on their knees in my presence. I am no better or worse than any other human."

"Nevertheless, the emperor has commanded." He slipped his own sandal onto the foot he had finished washing. "A bit too large, but you can afford another pair soon enough."

When he was satisfied that the sandal fit as well as possible, he repeated the procedure with my other foot. Still trying unsuccessfully to hide a scowl, he seized my arms to position them properly before he began wrapping the purple, woolen fabric around me. Although I finally understood the purpose of this material, I could scarcely believe it, for the fabric was decorated with gold embroidery in elaborate designs. This was a _toga picta_, worn only be the emperor or other high ranking officials during important ceremonies or celebrations. Generals were also allowed to wear it when a triumph, a ritual procession to acclaim a victory, was held in their honor.

Only Roman citizens were allowed to wear any manner of toga, and I was a Greek slave, a fugitive, a criminal condemned to capital punishment. What right did I have to dream of ever wearing a_ toga pura_, the most simplistic of all togas, let alone a _toga picta_, which was far more ornate than that of my master?

"Must you?" I asked. "I am unworthy."

"I couldn't agree more, but the emperor insists. If you refuse his toga, he'll be greatly displeased."Dominus sighed under his breath as he finished adjusting the emperor's toga around the fugitive slave. He took the green item from the nearest attendant. "Lower your head a little."

Obeying the last order he ever gave me, I bowed to my master a final time. He placed something upon my head.

"_Corona Civica_," he muttered.

Once again, I was speechless. The _Corona Civica_ was a crown made of three kinds of oak leaves. It was typically given only to soldiers who had committed acts of extraordinary valor, who were then granted the privilege to sit next to the senators at public events. Gatherings of people would stand to show respect to a soldier given this honor, and this man and the closest male members of his family would be freed from all public burdens. The only civilians to receive the _Corona Civica_ were public officials who had been of great service to Rome. Why was I wearing one?

"We all believed this lion would kill this slave," the emperor announced, "but by the miracle that has happened today, the gods have proven that it is their will that the slave should be set free, and that the lion should be placed in his care."

"I hereby grant his liberty," Dominus answered, handing me a large bag of coins. "Here are your wages, for the gods have made it clear that you were never rightfully my slave; thus I must pay you for your service to me and give you the money you earned when others hired you."

I could hardly believe what I had heard. I had entered the arena as a slave condemned to death, but I would leave as a freedman. It was the end of the life I had known and the beginning of a lifetime of true freedom and peace of mind.

That still didn't explain why I had suddenly found myself dressed in a toga. Even a freedman wasn't allowed to wear one, for a freedman was not considered a citizen, although his children would be.

It hardly mattered. My life had been spared, and I had been granted liberty. If wearing a toga was necessary for a demonstration of such mercy, I was more than willing to oblige, even if I didn't understand the reason.

Although it was the best thing that had ever happened to me, I was a freedman for only a moment before the emperor repudiated my new social status.

"To honor the gods," he continued as he addressed the crowd, "I further declare this man to be a true citizen of Rome rather than a mere freedman." He turned to me. "You are free to go, and take the lion with you."

As cheers erupted from the spectators, I bowed again, thanking the emperor. His words echoed through my mind as I left the arena. Citizens had the most rights and privileges, and they had fewer taxes. They were also given a fair trial before facing any manner of punishment, which would be less severe than consequences for those who were not citizens.

I had only wanted freedom, but now I had citizenship. Furthermore, I was apparently a highly respected citizen, for the emperor seemed to believe that the gods had blessed my life, so honoring me was a way of paying tribute to them.

The humiliation I had felt when I took my lap around the arena was now replaced by confidence. I was surrounded by wild animals and thousands of people, but none of them could do me any harm.

Glancing toward the sky, I whispered, "_Multas tibi gratias ago!_"

Keeping my hand on the lion's shoulder, I began searching for the nearest street vendor, for Amicus had not eaten properly for days. As I began walking through the streets of Rome with my friend, I wondered what had happened. Some may say that it was Amicus who saved my life and granted my liberty, and that would certainly be so. Then again, there were others who might claim that it was my own kindness that had set me free, for if I had not befriended the lion, I would not have been spared. The same arguments could be made for Amicus, whether I had freed him or it had been his own good nature that granted his liberty. However, it was my personal opinion that we simply helped each other, as friends do. We were as Damon and Pythias.

I had dreamed so often of the day I would be a freedman, but with the help of my friend, I had become even more than I had expected. I hardly believed my new identity.

I am a Roman citizen.


	16. Chapter 16

**VOLUMEN XVI**

_In necessariis, unitas; in dubiis, libertas; in omnibus, caritas._

My first thought was to find something for Amicus to eat, for he had been kept without food for many days in order to make him more savage. I feared that if I was unable to provide a meal for him soon, over half the cats and dogs of Rome would vanish. I approached a street vendor in the forum.

"Will you please give me some meat for the lion?"

The man behind the counter stared at me. "I beg your pardon, sir, but are you wearing a _toga picta_, or is there something wrong with my vision?"

It was the first time anyone had called me "sir." I wasn't entirely sure how I felt about the title.

"This lion spared my life when I faced him in the arena," I explained. "The emperor believed it was a sign from the gods, and to demonstrate his obedience to them, he has bestowed great honor on me."

He seemed astonished. "Never before has a man of your apparent status ordered meat from my stall."

"What status? I'm only a slave." I corrected myself, "That is to say, I was a slave, but I've been a citizen for nearly half an hour now."

The vendor continued to stare. "Citizen or slave, the fact remains that you stand before me with a lion at your side. Either you are indeed generously blessed by the gods, or else you're a sorcerer, but either way, it would be in my best interest to assist you. Wait here a moment."

I feared that Amicus, who seemed to be enjoying the smell of food being prepared, would tire of waiting. There was no telling what a hungry lion might do next. However, he sat beside me calmly, looking up at me as if asking why there was nothing to eat when it was obvious that there was plenty of food here. His twitching tail was a sign that he was either impatient or deep in thought, perhaps both.

"Your meal will be ready soon, _mi amice_." I stroked his shoulder reassuringly.

Amicus settled a little, but I knew he was still famished. I was most likely the only man in Rome who had no fear when his hand was licked by a ravenous lion. Remembering that my friend had once eaten the hand of another man, I nearly shuddered, but I reminded myself that if Amicus intended to devour me, he would have done so when I was pinned under his paw in the arena.

"Here you are." The man behind the counter in the food stall set a plate of meat and roasted vegetables before me. "Does your lion eat fish?"

When I nodded, he placed an entire basketful in front of Amicus, garnishing it with a few large pieces of what might have been either beef or pork.

"What do I owe you?" I asked, reaching into the bag of coins that Dominus had given me after placing the _Corona Civica_ upon my head.

The vendor waved his hand as if to dismiss the idea. "If the gods have placed a blessing over your life, they will reward me far greater than any mortal ever could! If not, it's enough for me to say that I have had the most unusual customers in Rome!"

"You are very kind, sir. My thanks to you."

For a few weeks, Amicus and I lived in the forests around Rome. Whenever I was in the city, I searched for a vacant _insula_ to rent. However, I soon heard of a man who was selling his _domus_ at less than half its true value. When I had made inquiries, I discovered that this home belonged to a man who had been shamed. He could no longer show his face without ridicule, and as a result, he had decided to remain at his villa permanently, and he would not be satisfied unless the _domus _was sold within the fortnight. However, no one was interested in buying it, for they believed this man had greatly displeased the gods, and whoever purchased the home would risk arousing the deities' wrath.

Undeterred, I asked where this _domus _could be found. When I had arrived at my destination, I could scarcely believe what I saw, for this home belonged to my former master. Although I had yearned so often to be free, I had never wished for my liberty to disgrace another human, for I could hardly make myself believe it was right for any honor I received to be at the expense of debasing someone else.

One of his slaves met me at the door. "The _domus_ must be sold this very day! My master insists! Five hundred denarii, and it's yours! Don't worry about whether or not the gods will be angry with you, for they will know that you are simply buying a home, not attempting to rebel against them by purchasing anything from my master."

"I already own something that once belonged to your master," I replied, meaning that I now owned myself. "What has he done that was so shameful that he feels he can no longer live in our fair city?"

"I wasn't in Rome when it happened," the slave explained, "but apparently, when my master returned from North Africa, he had one of his other slaves sent to the arena. The gods were so displeased with my master that they stopped the lion from eating the slave, and the emperor believed it to be a sign that the gods had placed a special blessing over the slave's life. To honor them, my master had to wash his slave's feet in public and declare before the emperor and the rest of Rome that the slave was now a freedman, and the emperor furthermore granted him citizenship and gave him gifts to honor him."

"Aren't the gods satisfied now that your master has freed this slave?" I asked.

"Everyone in Rome laughs at him. They mock him because his slave has been raised to a higher status than his own. They believe he must have done something terrible in order for the gods to punish him by making him an object of ridicule while granting so many blessings to his slave. Even if the gods are placated, my master is still treated with scorn."

I pondered the situation. Even though my former master had paid far greater than twice the amount he now asked for this home, spending five hundred denarii would leave me with barely enough money for food. Furthermore, I had never wished to be superior to anyone, only equal. However, I could find herbs and game in the forest, and if my former master was truly so desperate to leave the city, then purchasing this _domus_ would benefit both of us. I needed a place to stay, and he wished to sell the property that reminded him of what had happened.

At first, I wondered how Amicus would adjust to life in the city, for he had spent his entire lifetime in sylvan areas of wilderness. However, I needn't have worried. Our new home was spacious, and there was a garden where he could nap in the sun.

"Such a wretched existence!" I often exclaimed. "After all the honor I've been given, I'm still doing chores in my master's home for no pay! Why did I even bother trying to escape?"

However, I always had a smile when I made this complaint. I still had to do housework, but now I was doing so for myself. I ate the meals I prepared, and I was free to sit in the garden for no other purpose than enjoying the beauty of the flowers or the shade of trees that grew there. My chores were done in whichever order I chose, and I worked at whatever pace pleased me at the moment. At the end of each day, I fell asleep on a comfortable bed, and if I rose slightly later than usual the following morning, no one upbraided or chastised me. There were times I almost wondered if my life truly had been spared in the arena or if I had been killed and was now in the afterlife.

To avoid appearing superior to others, I wore a _toga pura_ rather than the _toga picta_ I had been given, the former being more common among citizens. I wouldn't have worn a toga over my tunic at all, but I didn't want to seem unappreciative of my citizenship.

I had a special collar made for Amicus so all who saw him would know he was my friend rather than a wild lion or one that had escaped from the arena. However, I made sure the leather collar was lightweight and loose enough that it didn't hinder him in any manner. I never kept him chained or caged, for I would hold no creature as my captive. Besides, it would have been unnecessary. He remained so close that I could take him to the forum without a leash.

From the skills I had learned when Dominus had hired me out to men of different trades, I soon found a job that I enjoyed. It was a bit unusual at first, keeping the money that I had earned and being the one to decide how it should be spent, not to mention being able to use it for my own purposes. Although most people left their pets at home when they did their daily work, Amicus insisted on following me, and I allowed this, for I would be master to no one. I could tell it highly amused other people to see a lion watching me go about my work.

I soon became accustomed to working for fair wages, but I never could get used to having coins pressed into my palm as a form of tribute. Anyone who saw me walking with Amicus in the forum always threw flower petals or offered coins and other gifts. I tried to return them, stating that I had no power, divine or political, to do special favors for anyone. However, my protests were always met by the same reply: Nearly everyone in Rome believed that the gods had placed a special blessing over my life and would reward them for any kindness shown to me.

With so many people giving me coins each day, I soon had a small fortune that I could never make myself believe rightfully belonged to me. After giving the matter some thought, I decided the best thing to do would be to use the money to help those less fortunate than myself. At least twice a week, I would purchase far more food than I needed. Having prepared some exquisite dish or the other, I would leave servings of it outside the homes of the poor.

Amicus seemed to realize what I was doing, for he never ate a bite of the food I left for those less wealthy than we were. Sometimes he took meat I had not yet cooked and carried it to a home where he had previously heard a child crying from hunger or illness. It was as if he sensed which residents of Rome were the weakest or most helpless, and as he had done for me, he provided meat to those in need.

When rumor spread that I was using my wealth to help the poor, other affluent citizens began contributing as well.

"How selfless you are, sir!" a senator remarked one day. "You are so greatly blessed by the gods, yet you use your blessings to help others!"

My friend loved the attention. He patiently allowed children to try climbing onto his back or arranging his mane as rich women adorned their hair. (I always kept a close eye on him whenever other people drew near, especially children; he always acted harmless enough, but he was still a lion.)

Even though I was gaining a bit of a reputation as a philanthropist, I was known primarily for what had happened in the arena. When Amicus and I walked through any crowd, I could always hear people whispering, "_Hic leo qui amicus hominis, et hic homo doctor leonis est_."

At first, I didn't mind remarks about how I had befriended a lion whose injury I had once tended. However, there was one day when I realized our reputations had preceded us too much.

I was purchasing some glassware when I felt something lightly tugging at my toga. Looking down, I saw a small child.

"Is there something I can do for you?" I asked kindly.

"You know how to help lions." She looked up at me hopefully. "Can you help Floriana?"

"Who's Floriana?"

The child handed me a small kitten the color of a storm cloud. "Floriana hurt her leg. Can you make it better?"

Stroking the kitten's ears to make sure it remained calm, I carefully examined the injured limb. "All will be well with your cat. She seems to have a minor problem with her muscle, but if you allow her to rest a few days, she'll be fine." I handed back the kitten.

The child's eyes sparkled. "Oh, thank you so much, sir!"

From that day forward, I was frequently asked by small children what should be done for their ill or injured pets. I always did what I could to advise them, but then adults began asking me similar questions about their animals. Although I made it clear that I was no physician, it seemed that nearly everyone in Rome believed I could somehow cure their pets or livestock.

There was one thing left to be done: When I had run away from my former master in North Africa, I had stolen a few items that I would need for my survival. It was only right that I purchase replacements in the forum and bring them to his villa.

"What are you doing here?!" he brusquely demanded when he saw me at his door.

"_Pax tecum salusque!_" I greeted.

My former master continued to scowl.

"I mean you no disrespect," I began. "After today, I will no longer interfere with your life." I handed him the items I had brought with me. "In order to survive in the wilderness, I stole a few supplies from you. I only wish to make amends for my theft."

He recoiled as if he had felt the lash of a whip. Without a word, he slammed the door in my face, but it didn't matter. I had the peace of mind of knowing I had restored everything I had once stolen from him, except myself, of course.

In necessary things, unity; in doubtful things, liberty; in all things, charity.


	17. Chapter 17

**VOLUMEN XVII**

_Audax ad omnia femina, quae vel amat vel odit. _

Rome had no shortage of signs warning visitors and intruders to beware of dogs. However, I shall never forget the day I woke up with a sign in my window, reading: "_Cave Leonem_." It was decorated with a lion mosaic.

"Do you know anyone who might have left this for us?" I asked aloud, even though I knew Amicus was unable to reply.

He raised his head as if letting me know he would respond if he could, but as everyone knows, lions don't speak Latin.

"It's strange," I mused. "If I had never been sent to the arena, I would never have become a citizen. In fact, I wouldn't have even been given freedom. I would still be a fugitive. Don't you find it unusual that it was the worst moment of my life that brought the best results?" I shrugged. "If I were a philosopher, I might contemplate it more and see if it could be used as an analogy for life, but I'm hardly philosophical. I tend to concentrate more on simplistic facts rather than profound truths, and right now, I believe a certain lion will be wanting his first meal of the day shortly. Am I wrong?"

Having set a dish of meat before Amicus, I began eating a few wheat biscuits dipped in honey.

"I have to go to the forum," I announced. "Would you care to come with me, or would you rather stay at home?"

Of course he was coming with me. As I have mentioned, I am no one's master, so if Amicus would have preferred to stay at the _domus_, I certainly wouldn't have objected. However, I always found myself unable to go anywhere without him at my heels.

When we arrived at the forum, I made my way to the nearest shop, but before I could make any purchases, I heard a sharp gasp, followed by: "It's eating my dormice!"

I didn't want to turn around, but I noticed that my friend's shadow was no longer beside my own. It was never in his nature to cause trouble in the forum; however, no matter how tame he had become, he was still a wild animal, so it was understandable that he would behave as one at times. That being, I went to see what the problem was.

"_Estne ille leo vester?!_" a woman demanded angrily, pointing to where Amicus was happily enjoying his snack of stuffed dormice from her basket.

"Yes, that's my lion," I answered. "I apologize. He doesn't usually behave this way."

She adjusted the baby in her arms. "You citizens think you can get away with anything, don't you?"

There was something familiar about her. She made me think of…someone. I couldn't remember who. Surely we had met before.

"To express my most sincere apologies, I will gladly buy you even more dormice than what he has eaten," I offered.

"Let me guess," she replied in Greek. "You're going to give me a speech about how the lion never forgets who has been kind to him, and since I fed him, he's going to do a good deed for me someday."

It had been a while since I had spoken Greek instead of Latin, even though the former was my native language. However, I certainly had no qualms about using it.

"How did you know about…?"

"Everyone in Rome knows about it!" she interrupted. "There have been scrolls written about this slave who became a citizen by befriending a lion! I'd recognize you anywhere, field hand!"

My eyes widened in disbelief. "Theokleia?"

"About time you recognized me!"

The baby cooed, grasping her finger and biting down on it. She smiled warmly at the infant.

"But how? I thought…"

"When you last saw me," she began, "you thought I was dying, and so did the masters. That's why they turned me out. The law states that if a master turns out an elderly or infirm slave, then the slave is free. I doubt there's a law that says the slave has to return if he or she recovers, and even if there is, I don't care. I'm a freedwoman now, and that's all there is to it."

"I'm glad you're alive," I answered, "but how did you manage…?"

"When the masters sent me to purchase what they needed from the market years ago, I went to the butcher and asked for blood. He seemed confused by my request, but I showed him a few coins, and he obliged. I poured the blood onto my tunic and ran back to the masters' home so I would seem weak and breathless by the time I arrived there, and then all I had to do was collapse in front of them, and I was free. I used the rest of the coins as rent for my own home until I found work."

"Work?"

Theokleia sighed. "Don't tell me you're one of those men who believes that a woman's place is in the home, just as everyone else around here seems to think!"

"Not at all," I assured her. "It's just that I thought women believed that the only kind of woman who should have a job is a slave or someone of the lower class."

She rolled her eyes. "And what do I look like, the empress?! I had to do something to earn a living! We can't all get everyone in Rome to kiss our feet because we helped an injured lion!"

After my initial astonishment, I began to feel grateful that she had survived. Theokleia had certainly done nothing to deserve death at the hands of robbers. However, I was also slightly upset. Why could she not have told me that she planned to feign her own murder?! Memories of seeing how peacefully she had "died" in freedom rather than living in slavery had given me the courage to run away from my former master, and as a result, I had nearly suffered a brutal death. If it hadn't been for Amicus, there would have been nothing feigned about my execution!

The baby extended its pudgy hands toward me, opening and closing its fists. Before I could protest, Theokleia handed me the child.

"What are you doing?! _Esne excors?!_ I've seen rocks that were more intelligent!" She sighed impatiently. "You have to hold it close." She moved my arms to reposition them.

Never in my life had I embraced another human. I was slightly uncomfortable with the situation.

"This is just incredible!" Theokleia stood akimbo. "What's the matter? Don't you want to give Rome strong sons and lovely daughters? You are a citizen, after all. You must have more citizens for the empire!"

"Perhaps someday," I answered, "but I always thought that before I cradled a baby, I would hold my wife."

The infant ran its hand down the side of my face, squealing joyfully. I tried to return the child to Theokleia, but she crossed her arms.

"You need practice," she insisted. "As for your lack of experience holding a woman, I'm afraid I can't help you with that."

I flinched when the baby rested its head against my shoulder. No human had ever been so close to me. Never before had I been accepted by anyone without having to earn the right to be so.

Theokleia seemed highly amused. "Give it a light kiss on top of the head."

"Perhaps that isn't the best idea," I suggested. "I've never kissed anyone before."

"Not even the lion?" she joked. "A lot of people kiss their pets."

Hiding a sigh, I gave the baby a quick kiss. "Are you satisfied now?"

"Aren't you going to rub its back while you're holding it?"

Feeling more uneasy each moment, I began lightly stroking the infant's back. The child seemed content enough for a while, but then it began fussing.

"Now feed it."

I frowned. "I might drop the bottle and break it."

"In all the times you poured water from pitchers into basins, how many times did you break anything?"

"Only once." I winced from the memory of what had happened.

"Feed it!" She handed me a bottle. "If it accidentally bites your hand, you won't lose too many fingers."

Unsure of myself, I offered the infant the bottle. The baby latched on and began drinking in huge gulps.

"Can't you hire another woman to feed it?" I asked.

"Too expensive! We can't all have half of Rome thinking their lives will be blessed if they give us enough coins!" She smiled at the baby. "I found a family for this one. They're supposed to meet me later this afternoon."

"This isn't your child?"

She crossed her arms. "How could this be my child?! I'm not even married!" Seeing my confusion, she explained, "I collect abandoned babies. They could be found by families who want to raise them as their own children, or they could be found by someone who wants a good slave, or they could die. I always thought it was far too risky to leave them, so when I find an unwanted infant, I care for the child until I can find a loving home for it."

Her eyes wandered to Amicus, who had started licking her feet. "Were the dormice not enough for your friend? Don't tell me he's still hungry!" She rolled her eyes. "_Carnifex!_"

"It's his way of showing appreciation," I explained. "Don't worry. I'll buy you some more dormice."

Theokleia grinned. "Wouldn't you rather buy some slaves?"

I wasn't sure I had heard her correctly. "I beg your pardon?"

"Get me some lunch, and I'll tell you about it."

When we had placed our order with the nearest street vendor, Theokleia paused briefly before asking, "What are your opinions of this new faith?"

I shrugged. "How is it any of my business?"

"There are some people in Rome who are persecuted because of their religion."

"If a person has committed no crimes, that person should not be treated as a criminal, regardless of personal beliefs or social status," I answered. "Speaking of which, you had mentioned…"

"Slaves!" she answered proudly. "You might say it's a hobby of mine, albeit an unusual one, but I have to do something with the money I have left after I've paid for my own expenses. It's more than I need to have a good life, so why not give someone else a good life too? I buy the slaves, share what I have with them, help them learn trades so they can earn enough money to pay for their own needs, and then I set them free. It's so wonderful when I have the chance to buy entire families so they don't have to be separated."

"My _domus_ is spacious enough," I stated. "I too should help others obtain their freedom. After all, no one should be forced to live in slavery."

"This really bothers you." Theokleia lightly gripped my shoulder for a brief moment. "It takes a very compassionate heart to feel another's anguish." She changed the subject. "Did you like your sign?"

"What sign?"

"The one I left in your window this morning so you could warn people to beware of your pet."

"How did you know where I live?"

Patting my hand a few times, she responded, "Let's see if you can guess. You're one of the most famous men in Rome. Now how would I know where you live? Could it be possible that all I had to do was ask about the man with the pet lion, and half the city could have led me to your home blindfolded?"

"True enough," I replied.

Theokleia finished her meal. "See? I told you that holding a baby wasn't so awful. When the time is right, you'll see a young lady about your age with a pet lioness, and you'll finally have the chance to be married."

I laughed at her joke.

"Will I be seeing you around the forum every now and then?"

"Yes, or you could come visit." I couldn't resist adding, "I do have a door. There's no need to leave signs in my window."

Having finished my meal, I wished her the best of luck on her ventures.

A woman, when inflamed by love or hatred, will dare everything.


	18. Chapter 18

**VOLUMEN XVIII**

_Amicus certus in re incerta cernitur._

Returning home long enough to gather several coins, I made my way to the basilica, behind which the slaves were being sold. I could hardly bear the sight of human beings at a market to be sold like livestock, but I reminded myself why I was here.

"There are so many of them," I remarked, stroking the lion's shoulder. "How can I ever choose?"

As if in reply, Amicus wandered up to one of the slaves and began licking his hand. The man's eyes widened with terror, but he seemed too frightened to speak. He clutched the hand of a woman who was standing beside him. The woman's eyes never left the two children that stood at her other side.

"How much for this one?" I asked, feeling as if I were the most contemptible beast in the history of the empire, understanding their agony, yet inquiring about the price of these unfortunate people, as if the worth of human life could be determined mathematically.

When the dealer had told me how much money was required to purchase the man, I asked about the others.

"This is an entire family!" the seller explained. "The woman's with child, so I charge a little extra for her! As for the children, they've always been sickly, so they're both half the price of other slaves their age!"

"What price for all of them?" I queried.

"If you buy the parents, I can give you the children for free."

Feeling disgusted with myself, yet remembering that I was purchasing liberty on their behalf, I sank to the level of giving someone money in exchange for owning other humans.

Tugging on her mother's hand, one of the children whispered, "_Estne is dominus novus?_"

"I'm afraid so," the mother answered quietly. "Just do as he says, and the new master will give us no trouble."

I hated myself. I wanted nothing more than to take them all before the nearest praetor or consul that very moment and state that I desired their freedom. A rod would gently be placed on their heads as they were declared free, and I would then have to turn them in a circle and lightly tap their faces to show they were at liberty to go wherever they wished.

"At least we were all purchased by the same master," the father told his family.

"He may still sell us individually," argued the mother, glancing around nervously to see whether or not I was paying attention to their conversation.

To avoid causing them more worry, I pretended I couldn't hear them. Amicus, on the other hand, started rubbing his head against the children, much to the parents' dismay.

"He's going to kill us," the mother whispered. "Instead of sending us to the arena for displeasing him, he's going to feed us to his pet lion. That's why he wanted all of us. Lions require a lot of meat to survive."

I began scratching behind my friend's ears. "No need to fret. The lion is accustomed to having people for dinner." Realizing how that must have sounded, I explained, "I invite guests to my home for dinner parties about once a month. Amicus never harms any of them. He's never hurt anyone who hasn't threatened him first."

The father stared incredulously. "This lion is friendly?"

"We are as brothers."

One of the children tentatively reached out to touch him, but immediately drew back her hand in fear.

"I'll show you to the _domus_. It isn't too far from here."

As we walked, I attempted conversation.

"What are your names?" I asked.

"Anything you would like to call us," the mother replied.

"What did your former master call you?"

"Nothing repeatable, unless you insist on hearing it, sir."

Kneeling, I motioned for one of the children to come closer. She approached, but she looked shyly at the ground.

"_Quid est nomen tibi?_" I queried.

"Shoshannah," she answered. "My sister's name is Elisheba."

"And your parents?"

"My mother is called Yemima." Shoshannah nervously clasped and unclasped her hands. "Father's name is Chanokh." After a pause, she asked, "Did you need to know anything else?"

"Were you ever free?"

"Both my parents were born as slaves," she explained.

"That doesn't matter," Chanokh scolded. "Our master is not interested in hearing about our past, and he will call us whatever he pleases."

I thought it best to change the subject. "What sort of work do you enjoy?"

"Whatever work you command us to do, master," he replied.

"No!" I was immediately ashamed of myself. "I'm sorry for my outburst. I didn't mean to use a sharp tone with you."

"You don't have to apologize to us, master. We're only slaves."

Taking a deep breath, I attempted to explain, "I am no one's master. Even the lion is free to come or go as he pleases. I just want to know how you wish to earn money."

"If it pleases our master, we will learn any trade he wishes," answered Chanokh.

"Suppose it were to please me to set you free," I replied. "You would need to know how to do some manner of work in order to remain a freedman, or you would sell yourselves into slavery again until you had paid off your creditors."

He seemed taken aback.

"I understand if you need some time to think it over," I responded. "If you'll excuse me for a moment, I have a few purchases to make before we leave the forum."

When we entered the _domus_, Chanokh asked, "What task would our master have us do first?"

"I'll show you to your rooms and heat some water for you. I thought it would be nicer for you there than the bathhouse." I handed them what I had bought in the forum. "I trust these garments are to your liking, but if you don't care for their design, let me know. I couldn't help noticing your own tunics seem a bit ragged. If your new sandals don't fit, please tell me at once. I'd hate for them to pinch your feet or be so loose that you stepped wrong and sprained an ankle."

"And after we bathe and put on these new garments?"

For the first time in my life, I gave an order, but I made sure not to take an authoritative tone. "Rest a while."

"Where are our quarters?" Yemima asked.

"There are no quarters here," I responded, "only guestrooms. You may spend as much time there as you wish, but I don't want any of you to feel confined to them. You are free to go wherever you'd like. You may also use any furniture that takes your fancy."

I led them to the rooms they would be occupying. After I had brought them the warm water I had promised, I left them in peace.

Stepping into the garden, I lay down under a tree, letting my mind wander back to the time in North Africa when I had been lying in the shade when I heard the roaring of a lion trapped in a pit, the first time I met Amicus. I was amazed at how much my life had changed since that day. Now instead of a slave, I was a master. I had dreamed of obtaining my own liberty, but I had never imagined I would one day grant freedom to other slaves.

I was just finishing preparations of the evening meal when I noticed my guests were watching.

"We apologize," Yemima began. "We should have been the ones to…"

"Not at all," I interrupted. "Is it not a host's duty to provide food for his guests?"

"It's a slave's duty to prepare food for his master," Chanokh replied.

"I'm not your master."

"But you just bought us!"

"I bought your freedom," I responded. "When you have acquired some manner of work in order to earn your own income and you have found a place to stay, then you will be free to go. For now, you may consider yourselves my most honored guests. While you're learning a trade, I'll see to it that the children are given an education."

"But we're girls!" Elisheba argued. "Isn't an education just for boys?"

"I have a friend who would argue that everyone deserves the chance to learn, regardless of race, gender, or social status. In fact, I believe I may have to invite her over for a visit."

"Why are you helping us?" Yemima asked. "We can do nothing for you in return."

"The lion likes you," I stated, "and when he wants a certain slave to be granted liberty, he can be very persuasive. That's what he did for me."

I recalled how Aisopos had always said that no matter what challenges a person overcame, life always had another misadventure at hand. This was certainly true for me. I was a respected citizen of Rome, but now that I had been given friendship and freedom, I would be helping others have the chance to experience the same blessings.

Placing a hand on the lion's mane, I thought of how far I had come since my first day in Rome, the life I now enjoyed compared to the life I had once known. I had never dreamed that it would be within my power to grant anyone else's liberty, especially not when it had seemed impossible that I would ever gain my own.

"I owe it all to you, _mi amice_." I pulled Amicus into a brief embrace. "_Tu amicus verus es._ It is a true friend indeed who will remain steadfast, whether to a fugitive Greek slave, a condemned man, or a Roman citizen."

A true friend is discovered in times of uncertainty.


End file.
